Mad Friends
by anon66
Summary: COMPLETE. Now revised. During the time between GONE and HUNGER the Coates kids went through starvation, madness and murder. This is a closer look at that period, exploring everything from Caine's night terrors to Drake's past to Diana's struggle to keep an uprising under control. Focuses strongly on the relationship between the infamous Silver Trio.
1. Mad Monday

**Disclaimer:** The Gone™ series belongs to 'dem publishers (dependant on the country) and written by Michael Grant. Making no profit whatsoever or I'd been rich, which unfortunately I'm not. All other material such as songs and references ain't mine either.

**A/N:** This fic is set during the gap between GONE and HUNGER, in which Caine Soren was suffering from haunting nightmares and consuming madness. Since I'm so oddly interested in the latter, I wanted to do a closer take on the Silver Trio's (Caine, Diana and Drake) absence from villainy-business and make a fic revolving around at their past, thoughts, and platonic relationships. There will be seven chapters - thus, seven days.

Last but not least, this is the prologue. So don't expect any major action in this chapter - it just explains a bit about the current situation, especially about Diana. Drake's point of view is next chapter's speciality, so those starved on sadism and more psychoanalysis should wait for the next.

Thank you to **DreamCather96** for beta'ing!

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**Mad Friends**

**Day I :: Mad Monday**

**+Beginning of an End+**

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_"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked._

_"Oh, you can't help that," said the cat, "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."_

_"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice._

_"You must be," said the cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." _

-Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Lewis Carroll)

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_Their relationship is dangerous. It's like cards placed on top of each other forming a perfect triangle, but one blow of the wind can push the whole thing down._

_There is a fine line between love and hate, and the three of them were dancing on this very line, but never once actually stepping over it completely. They all had different places beside the line (like some sort of twisted game of chess) and one of them even had one foot planted in each realm._

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Was it proper to compare Coates Academy to an asylum for those declared mentally insane?

_'No,'_ Diana Ladris decided a little too quickly as she passed a (former?) student, staring at him for a moment or two, meeting those piercing green orbs that held nothing but sheer human curiosity. Her own pair answered no questions.

_'The people here aren't _that_ bad. …But an insane asylum? I've never thought of this place like that before.' _ It wasn't anything in particular that made her ponder about this. Even though Coates had once been filled with basics of a completely normal _madhouse_ such as psychotherapists, big white walls, specialized teachers and free food and shelter, it had still lacked one very important thing - the grand masses of utterly mad people. After all, you can't have a madhouse without mad people.

Logic. But there wasn't much logic in madhouses, was there now?

Coates had been a school for troubled children with rich parents, but you'd have to search well to find the _utterly_ mad ones. But after the FAYZ had erupted, a wave of madness threw itself at the school, infiltrating the atmosphere, like a plague spreading through the unsuspecting offers taking one by one. Because now, in this instant, there were certainly a great amount of mad people around there.

She walked over to the kitchen.

Diana opened the can of sweet-corn with the tin-opener she'd found in the parking lot. It was rusty, but worked, and since the last one had been vomited all over, she had no desire to use that.

It had become a daily routine now - walking to the kitchen, making food for herself, then for Caine, then bring it to Caine, then feed it to Caine, then handle Caine's emotional trauma, and bang! Another day had passed by, like yellow leaves on an autumn day.

"Bug, I know you're there," she said loudly yet nonchalantly, just continuing her work.

It was too early in the morning for anyone around there to be up; most of those who had stayed at Coates were either too lazy to leave or too damn frightened that they'd get hunted down by Drake. But Bug was a sneaky little rat; he'd steal food if he felt like it. Well, everybody _tried_ stealing food, but only Bug was dumb enough to actually really, _really_ try it.

"There's no point in hiding, spill out what the fuck you want." Well, what he wanted was obvious, but Diana liked the uncomfortable look she received. Although she no longer had her important telekinetic bodyguard, words could be just as dangerous as powers.

"You're so cross in the morning," Bug whined, and knew to keep his distance.

Diana was smart and had a pepper spray hidden underneath her shirt; Paint had been the first to experience that when he'd made a move on her the other day.

"I just wanted… Just wanted to know where Merwin is. He ain't in his room, and… and he told he'd beat me 'cos I didn't ack… ac_know_ledge…" Bug had issues muttering the big word, "…him as leader."

"You challenged mini-Caine?" Diana said with malevolence, finally getting the can open with a groan. She poured it all into a soup bowl, then almost throwing a spoon into it. "I'd recommend hiding. But don't worry just yet; he's out on a secret mission right now. The little info I got from his lil' conversation with Soren - y'heard the vase crashing into a wall? _That_ conversation - he's doing a robbery or something."

"For food?"

"For food."

"Thank god, I'm so hungry."

Diana stopped up for a moment. Then she looked at him, raising an eyebrow in mock amusement. "What makes you think he'll share it with you?"

This was something that had slipped Bug's mind; Diana saw it in how his mouth fell open. Then he closed it, also gritting his teeth together, "I don't know about that, but I don't think he'll share it with you either," Bug hissed in a try to make her arrogance disappear.

Diana said nothing for a second as she continued to warm up the food. She smiled innocently as she passed him on her way out, taking use of her tallness in comparison to his because it only doubled the whole queen-and-servant relationship. "Caine gets hungry, and when he's hungry he gets angry, and Drake knows better than to mess with an unstable and angry Caine."

"But Caine isn't himself right now, is he? You're the one that has to feed him - and I know Merwin is eager to get rid of him. And even more so, eager to get rid of you."

Diana knew to keep her silence.

Bug's voice was a mere whisper, but soaked venom that ran from his mouth in the form of spit, a sign of ecstatic excitement. "Tell me Ladris…"

This is what made him dangerous. This is what made any human dangerous to Diana - humans are like rats, and they'll find any exploitable weakness. Now he stood on his tip-toes so he was able to whisper his question right into her ear.

"…who cares for you?"

_'You're nothing but a pack of cards.'_

It wasn't said loudly, and the last part wasn't said at all, but the blasé tone still made the hairs on the back of Diana's neck rise. It was as if the boy before her stood far closer, his lips even gracing her earlobe, only to carve into a wicked grin.

Cards can be architecture, placed in such a way that they're downright beautiful. But when cards fall, they scatter about, creating nothing but a mess of black and red and white.

Diana narrowed her eyes and headed towards Caine's room, ignoring how Bug looked like a fat cat who'd just swallowed ten rats in one mouthful. _'What an insect_,' she thought.

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_Cards_, mentioned again and again.

_Chess, _mentioned again and again.

_Games_, mentioned again and again.

Let us take a look at the rather simple yet complex _game_ - Chess.

There's a king, and there's queen.

If you kill the king, it's check mate - the game is over and out. This is sort of funny, since it's the queen which is the strongest piece on the board. A player who's stupid enough to lose their queen early in Chess often loses the whole thing.

(If Caine hadn't kept Diana, had forgotten the feel of a teenage boy full of hormones with a crush on a beautiful girl and become the bloodthirsty tyrant that rested deep within his soul, he'd lost the game. He'd been dead a long time ago.)

How can Chess be both simple and complex?

Well - at first sight, the game seems simple enough: a chequered black-and-white board with some different characters on each side in said colours. It's limited to two players, and switch regularly one-after-one in turns. Also, at first sight, even the characters seem remotely simple.

If you look closer, however, you'll see a lot of details craved out in three or formed in brittle glass. There are horses and there are towers, and all of them have small details you can study for hour after hour. Chess is a strategy game - you ought to plan your moves and have decent observation skills to know what kind of attack your opponent is preparing.

Ivory against ebony, light against darkness, good against evil; everything contrasting each other in every possible way.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Caine, before he'd gone all lunatic, had often wondered if they were on the same side - the black, the evil, the _terrible _side - or if Diana had stood on the second side, waving carelessly at him with her tongue stuck out. Or, if Diana was standing by his side, a queen, ready to protect him from the horrors of his mind.

She just needed to find him in his mental madhouse, stretch out and touch him, pulling him up from the madness sea of black (evil and terrible) tar. Till then, he would only continue sinking deeper down, being harder to bring back to reality for each passing minute.

Because the King has gone mad.

The Queen, who is unable to rule his kingdom, is busy tending the wounds in his mind.

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As if shaken by a bad dream, Diana stood up from the bed, swinging her legs over the edge and onto the cold marble floor of her new room. It was a deceased boy's former room - she'd decided her own would distract her from focus since it had many memories from her times at Coates.

When her bare feet hit the cold surface, she shuddered and quickly shoved her feet into some big slippers. She didn't understand how she'd awoken at this hour, it was as if someone had-

_Knock._

Diana frowned. She knew the door was locked, so she wasn't scared, but there was a bit anxiety in the bottom of her stomach because who would be at her door at this hour? It was dark outside, she could tell by the cracks in the silvery Venetian binds.

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Who's there?"

No verbal reply. But the knocking had stopped.

Gritting her teeth, Diana confronted common sense, marched over to the door and pulled it open.

The boy before her almost fell backwards, obviously shaken by her thunderstorm expression, the muscle under one of his eyes twitching rapidly. He was a mere dark form, thin and standing in an odd position, all hunched over like he was suffering from severe backpain. Though Diana could have recognised him anywhere.

"Caine?"

His dark windows, which were completely without souls (_eyes_ weren't the proper noun) became half-lidded again. He said nothing, but he'd calmed down, so much was obvious. The mere sound of her voice had this sort of effect on him.

Diana crossed her arms, and found no words.

He didn't look any better than he'd looked at her last visit, certainly. There were still black (the blackest of black) circles under his… black, soulless _eyes_. His skin was deadly pale, cheeks dark red like dying roses, and hair was ruffled and undone, like he'd just gotten out of bed, which he probably had referring to what he was wearing and all.

No, the purple pyjamas full of tiny, smiling ice-bears didn't fit his lack of expression at all. Underneath his arm was his precious teddy bear, always making Diana wonder where he'd gotten it from. He had a death-grip on it, obviously afraid to lose it. He'd also dragged with him his blanket, the one he always hid underneath when the hallucinations became to scary for him to handle.

"Caine."

She was confirming it now, confirming that he was himself and not some deranged personality developed if reality became too hard to handle - but who was in the end just as bad with coping with reality as the original Caine.

Quiet, Caine nodded slowly, insecure where he stood in the dark hallway.

This was the boy she'd once dubbed Fearless Leader.

This was the boy who had four bars, and was, along with his twin-brother, one of the strongest people in the entire FAYZ.

This was the boy who she'd watched die inside since those three days of Hell, who she'd fed, who she'd changed clothes on, and gradually watched as his mind twisted itself around - like a worm trapped within threads - and coiling itself even more into the depths of madness for each movement, for each struggle.

Caine blinked, owl-like. When he spoke, he shuddered at the sound of his own voice, looking like a kicked, half-starved puppy. "There's a monster underneath my bed," he whispered breathlessly, so quiet she had issues hearing him, so honest it stung even more to see him like that.

"Oh."

When he didn't get what he felt was a proper reply, he shifted uncomfortably, twirling his thumbs together. He didn't manage to look at her, and was staring at the wall now, seeing shit again. "It wants to _devour_ me," he continued, whisper becoming intense in the end.

This was only one of many personalities Caine could show during a day. She'd made herself a little rule to never approach him when she didn't know if he was… Dreaming or not, but she was pretty sure this was the state she found him most in - a lost child. It was dangerous, she knew, helping someone who was mentally unstable with a major personality disorder and had serious reality-delusions, but what could she do? She watched over him, and if she didn't, then he'd die or get driven even madder. She failed to see which one was worst.

Diana faced the facts - there would be no more sleep tonight. She said nothing as she stepped up beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder, feeling how he trembled at the touch.

"You can't sleep here, Caine."

She had to cling onto the little privacy she had left. Living the same hall as a homicidal maniac (who happened to be sadist who despised Diana) and the same room as an unstable sociopath with an identity crisis wasn't one of the smartest thing a girl without useable superpowers (or a black belt in karate) could do.

It was as glass broke; his expression shattering completely, like a mirror crashing into the harsh ground; the harshness of the real world. His mouth opened to say something, to _scream _something, just _something _that would change her mind. All that followed was his mouth forming a "no".

"No, Caine. You need to go back to your room." She'd turned him around by the hold on his shoulder, not surprised on how easy it was to make him stumble, but eventually turn the other way. "There are no monsters in there. I guarantee it."

Then she shoved him out, closed the door, and left the freezing lunatic alone in the dark hallway.

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_Someone might have called her cold, not comforting the distressed boy so obviously in love with her. Did he trust her? In this state, yeah. _

_No one could really understand what Diana had gone through these nine weeks. This had turned out to be common - when Caine wasn't screaming his lungs out, or near-death with an inhumanly high fever, he would long for human presence. _

_And the only human he didn't throw through a wall if he had one of his infamous mood swings was Diana Ladris. It was natural for him after all, since even if the Gaiaphage had torn his mind to shreds, stolen a piece of his soul and left him as a blabbering idiot, his crush on Diana still held him in the human realm. _

_Diana wasn't a princess, but... _

_As a child, she'd always wanted to be a princess. _

_It was only logical, no? Born female, you're supposed to adore the very idea of becoming a princess. But actually, this is a common desire among youngsters and adults alike - birthed from hundreds of often silent but meaningful lessons from the elders; the adults, in this case, who in a child's innocent eyes, not only ruled but also created the very world around them. _

_"Children never lie" is a famous saying, so perhaps the idea of adults creating a child's world is true. Haven't it occurred in centuries? Without the constant support of mom and dad no one would have turned out the way they were. They'd be empty, not knowing when or what or how or why. _

_Princesses signify innocence. Is it not a parent's dream, for their child to forever remain a child? But it could be simpler than that too, not a plan from the parents' side. Because girls simply love what a princess signifies (to them, at least) - and, what is not to love? _

_Being so beautiful you're adored and envied; nights spent waltzing on massive balls; diamonds and gems given as daily gift from hundreds of suitors; a life filled with eternal happiness, from a good birth to a good death. Perfection. Humans will always reach out for… perfection._

_But all of this isn't what triggers the ultimate desire, oh no, it is what women want (or, are supposed to want, pursuant to human expectations) from before: a man, or a prince, rather. A flawless gem among the masses of sexist pigs; the kind one; the faithful one; the one that would never leave you for another and loves you more than you'll ever understand. Everybody want a happily-forever-after, an end of the fairytale, and to know that thereafter, everything will be well. _

_But… _

_Welcome to reality, my dear. _

_There is no 'happily forever after'._

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She was beautiful, yes, but there was several rifts in the normally so perfect mirror. She wasn't flawless, there were neither parties nor wealth of any kind, and at least: There was no prince to fuck her over. Thinking through her options properly, she guessed Caine was as close to a prince you came. He'd dubbed himself to be a king, secretly wanting everybody to bow down and kiss the feet he walked on, which made him appear more like a gruesome tyrant, forcing each boy and girl through his despotism.

_Crack._

The door had slammed open.

"No," he whispered, not even aware that he'd just used his powers. It came natural to him in this state - his mind was so shattered, that the brainpower that would have gone to keeping his cool and act formal in front of his love-interest could focus on other things, such as doing the power with a single thought, like six sets of extra arms or something.

Diana sighed. She was in no mood arguing with a demented sociopath who acted as if he was four. And she'd keep on referring him as just that, because she really couldn't get over it. Getting used to something and getting over something are two majorly different things. "Very well then. But you can't sleep here - you're going in your own room and that's final."

He didn't even blink, just stared at her in wonder. "Will you follow me, then?" he asked.

She threw her head back and laughed. It was a chilling sound, piercing through the soul of those with a beating heart, and Caine took a step backwards, unsure on how to respond. He was always so nervous around her, anxiousness coming from the bottom his stomach.

Didn't he understand it, the irony of him to be asking such of her? She'd been watching his back for nine weeks no and he still didn't acknowledge it. It wasn't as if he could manage to think it even, thinking that he was alone in his worlds, both the real and the imaginary one. Perhaps there was more?

"I'll follow you, Caine. I'll always follow you."

There was a sinister undertone to that statement, and Caine clutched his teddy bear closer.

Diana followed him through the corridor with the marble walls - the Hell hall of darkness - and into his room - the Hell Gate…? - and she said nothing as he went into bed, almost sinking into the matress, watching her with tearful, frightened eyes.

Instead she tucked him in, helping him to get all warm and cosy underneath the bedcovers without burning up. She checked the temperature and was happy to see that he'd fallen underneath 39°C. Perhaps it was going down?

_'Or he's just having a small period of Heaven before Hell breaks lose again.'_ Diana had never been much of a positive thinker. Caine was too busy repeatedly mouthing 'monster'.

She checked underneath the bed. "There's nothing there Caine."

"You can't see him, can you?" Caine questioned in horror.

"There's nothing there-"

"I CAN SEE HIM RIGHT NOW!" He interrupted her by screaming, then hyperventilating, pointing at something she did not see. Even if she knew it was mere hallucinations, she couldn't help but shudder and secretly fearing what she'd see when she turned around - only to find it, as she'd expected, nothing. There was nothing standing in the doorway.

"There's nothing there Caine. I promise. You're hallucinating 'cos you haven't had your medicine-"

"Maybe I'm hallucinating you as well," Caine wondered, staring at her with suspicious eyes.

"If I was a monster, would I be as kind as I am now?"

"…Well you are kind."

Jesus, it was so ironic Diana started sniggering loudly again. Caine looked uncomfortable, but merely tore his eyes away from her and over to the place the supposed monster was supposed to stand. "He went away." She stopped laughing.

Diana kept quiet when she tucked him in again after his latest outburst, running her fingers soothingly through his unruly mop of hair, like a mother soothing her baby after a terrible nightmare.

But that was the problem. You cannot soothe a child whose life is a living nightmare.

Caine tried to convince himself she'd always be there, watching over him, trying to drag out the tortures seconds just to pretend. Diana stared at him in wonder, and then turned around as if her life had been threatened and nearly ran out.

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…_As a child, Diana Ladris always dreamt of being a princess. _

_The same girl that had formerly wanted to be a princess grits her teeth together. _

_Life doesn't work that way. Often, it breaks you, forces you back on your feet, and breaks you again. An endless circle - the circle of life. You live, then you die. There's nothing exactly beautiful or flawless about neither of the happenings. _

_The girl smiled bitterly, like she'd just been offered the forbidden fruit from a snake coiled around her, whispering sweet lies into her ears, lies that she deep within knew was the truth. _

_But just like death and life, truth and lies are two sides of the same coin; and the truth and lie are equally ugly or beautiful all depending on her thoughts._

_Was the apple poisoned? Did the vermin infiltrate her system and made her slip into a coma? …In a glass coffin, of course, watching the waking world but not quite there. _

_Perhaps she was Snow White in disguise and a prince searched for her at the moment; ready to kiss her and break the spell, bringing her back to life. _

_She took a bite of the apple offered by the snake in her dream and knew, automatically, that she lived in no fairytale. It was ironical, how this was what she pondered about in her current Hell, or Heaven, or something in-between. Funny, almost. _

_Diana smiled a smile made of glass._

_"It's a funny world we live in."_

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"I don't know about you, Teddy…" Caine muttered to the stuffed bear, too involved in his own wondering to focus on newly-evolving monsters, "…but I think _she_ might have gone _mad_."

With their low-pitched voices and blasé tunes, the monsters started singing.

_And as always to the dawn of man;_

_Irony and madness walk hand in hand._

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_._

_"There are echoes in the garden is anybody listening _

_There are echoes lost in the garden is anybody listening _

_They whisper: _

_The ones who are only living are the ones who are only dying"_

-Susanne Sundfør; "The Brothel"

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**A/N: **I tried keeping my needed references count low, and I feel like I used material my younger or more unintelligent (when it comes to the geek-world) readers could relate to. There was so much symbolism in here - and I really do love symbolism.

The poisoned apple is from the _Snow White _Disney film from 1951. It was offered by the Wicked Queen, and because of it Snow White fell into a coma-like state where only a kiss from a prince could save her. There was also a religious reference right there, "the forbidden fruit" in the Bible, in which a snake offers Eve and leads to the downfall of man and their ejection from Paradise. "I CAN SEE HIM RIGHT NOW!" is from _Donnie Darko_ (2001), when hypnotised!Donnie sees Frank, the giant bunny rabbit that keeps haunting him. But Frank is scary, so I'd screamed as well.

And of course there was a lot of _Alice in Wonderland_ material here too, since that was the thing that ultimately inspired me to actually do this fic. Please leave a review with your thoughts, questions and CC~!


	2. Thaveless Tuesday

**Disclaimer:** If I wrote Gone™, there would be a generous amount of descriptive slash and I'm fairly certain there is no such thing in the actual books.

**A/N:** Chapter title means "filthy as the Ace of Spades" and is a common French term according to Wikipedia.

This is centred around Drake's past and present. He's such a complex character (or rather, I make him one) and therefore deserves a damn long chapter.

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**Mad Friends**

**Day II :: Thaveless Tuesday **

**+Fichu comme l'as de pique+ **

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_**Gretchen**: "My mom had to get a restraining order against my stepdad. He has emotional problems." _

_**Donnie**: "Oh, I have those too! What kind of emotional problems does your dad have?" _

_**Gretchen**: "He stabbed my mom four times in the chest." _

_**Donnie**__: "Oh."_

-Donnie Darko (2001)

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(There's a third part in this game, and let us not forget him. Issue is, what is he, on the chessboard?

Perhaps he is a horse, chosen to carry out his master's exact words, moving carelessly from one square to another? Yes. Drake is not king, nor a queen, but a horse - which is, in itself, quite a powerful piece. Still no king though, and losing the horse would have no major impact on the game of Chess.

But if you actually compared a king to his horse, who would actually be stronger? The only reason why the horse doesn't throw his king to the ground is because it has been trained not to. This, however, doesn't mean that it won't.)

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_The boy is four when he first discovers his desire to indulge pain to others. It's a careless observation, not really bothering him a lot. In the giant garden outside the Merwin mansion, he's caught a butterfly._

_He feels how the small creature struggles helplessly against his thumb and index finger. Even though it knows it's going to die, it struggles endlessly, almost tearing its wings off in its helpless tries to escape. The fascination on his face and sick interest playing in those dead grey eyes would have alerted any parent, but there's no one there. _

_He rips the butterfly's wings off, starting with the right one, tearing it off as slowly as he manages. Then he rips off the second, just as slowly. Butterfly dust covers his hands, and he lets the now worm-like remains of the insect fall to the ground._

_Poking on it after having already torn its wings off, he keeps on doing it until it stops moving. _

_There's no one to see how his sadism develops. _

_._

_._

_It's his first interaction with what will later help him on his journey to Hell._

_"…See Drakey! Dad's superman! He has a gun and everything." The blonde mother throws the policeman's revolver from one hand to another, watching how chubby fingers reach out to play with it. _

_"Are you sure it is wise to keep weapons so close to a kid, Mia?" her husband grumbles from behind his newspaper. _

_She stops dead in her tracks, ripping the gun from her son's hand. "You dare to doubt my commitment to parenthood, Harold?" _

_Again Harold could hear his old mother's voice in his head. How she'd refused to partake in the wedding because of her immense hatred for her son's new young wife. 'You're gonna see what happens when babies have babies. You're an awful nice guy dearest, but I for sure hope you'll see the truth, 'cos I didn't raise no idiot. That baby's gonna suffer, and I won't know of the Satan spawn. With a mom like that, he's bound to turn out a socioally awkward crybaby.'_

_"Well?" _

_"No, I doubt you, luv, not at all," Harold says with a tired smile._

_._

_._

_The first time his parents discover his abnormal attitude, he's six years old._

_"Have you wet the bed again Drake? Or is it the nightmares?"_

_There are a horrid screams and the boy doesn't understand. His gaze returns to the scene in front of him, watching the tiny, white bunny rabbit nailed to the desk with mixed emotions. He hadn't expected it to be so… red. He likes the colour, it's nice enough, but it gives him no real satisfaction to gaze upon a dead animal. _

_In the background, his mother faints._

_._

_._

_A boy is sitting on the carpet, playing with a blue toy train. In reality, he has no interest for it whatsoever, but repeatedly pushing it back and forth seems to convince his parents that he's focusing on it and not listening to them._

_"He gave you what! Oh that ol' fellow never knows when to stop, does he?"_

_It's hard to not listen when woman laughter echoes around in the big Merwin mansion. Not drunken, but tipsy, woman laughter._

_A pause while they collect their breath._

_"…but we've been hearing certain rumours, about your, uh, son..." _

_"Indeed," another woman replies, "Y'know how rumours fly when you hire such cheap immigrant maids, eheh…" _

_The silence thickens. _

_The boy's small fingers tighten his hold on the train, and the speed quickens, but other than that, he does not move. He can feel the pitying stares on his back._

_"Um, yes. I'm afraid my darling son had some issues with his mental health."_

_"Oh my god! Is he okay?" she stops for a moment to take a sip from her glass of wine, thereafter regaining her oh-so-concerned expression without any strain. "If not… Will he be okay? Is he… mentally deranged or something?"_

_"Nono," his mother hurries to say - the humiliation of having a retarded son would be to great for her too handle! "I talked to a child-psychologist and he says it's normal for kids his age to experiment with... death. Especially boys, 'cos they are men through and through no matter what. And y'know what men like… violence, video-games, war and dominance and y'know, man-stuff."_

_"Well he is a beautiful child," one of the women says. "It would be shame if that beauty came to waste. I don't want my friend's child to be sent to a madhouse, because that would certainly ruin his future and perhaps yours as well! Husbands tend to blame the wife when something is horribly wrong with the kid, so in that way we haven't changed much from the sixties." A nervous little laugh followed, indicating that this was something that had occurred to her sometime ago. "But he has no sisters or brothers, correct?"_

_"No, one is enough for now," the mother says and winks. "But don't worry about him, he's alright. I've set him up with the new psychologist this week so he can sort out his little problem. My husband suggests making him more social, and the new neighbours have a son, Holden, who's only a few years older. The family is relatively good, so bad influence is something I don't need to worry about." _

_"What a great idea! And guess what…"_

_"What?"_

_"This is the best your hair has ever looked!"_

_"Oh darling! You really think so? I know it's quite a light colour but they say the lighter the younger…" _

_The boy stands, and walks away. _

_Nobody notices._

_._

_._

_"I'm Holden. I'll be your new babysitter."_

_No response from the quiet little sand-blonde._

_"Now move over and tell me where the TV remote is, I'm inviting a couple of friends over and I'd recommend you hide in your bedroom, or things'll get real nasty. Like, I'll tell everyone 'bout your lil' bed-wetting problem… And the fact that your mother's a goddamn hooker. You know what a hooker is, don't cha?"_

_For the first time in his eight years of life, the boy feels burning hatred._

_._

_._

_The year after that is the year where his father begins wondering if his mother was right, too intelligent to ignore the devilish glint in his son's silver eyes. _

_But when he looks up at his father in the traditional student-and-guardian fashion, it warms the old police officer's heart so much he cannot help but give into the request. Standing behind the boy, he guides him quick and easy through the main rules of handing a gun. _

_He's just glad there's something he can share with his disturbed son. _

_._

_._

_"Oh, look, if it isn't the little whoreson-" _

_That's all it takes. _

…_The boy feels blood on his face for the first time. It's like a sticker and redder version of water, and it sticks to his face, making a far from elegant mess. He tries wiping it away, which only ends with more on his expensive white shirt. _

_But when he looks down at the bloodied mess of a babysitter lying sobbing with his feet, Drake throws his head back and laughs. It was all so easy; he'd just held the gun up just to watch Holden's expression go from smugness to fear in a half second, before he pulled the triggers without guilt at all. He'd watched the bullet go right through him, creating a nice little hole. _

_The boy continues to laugh._

_And he's still laughing when the policemen arrive at the scene and knock him out. _

.

.

_"Mr. Merwin sir, I assure you, it is your son's best concern to send him to Coates academy! There he will get a proper education and also help with his, uh, mental problems."_

_"Yes, I understand-"_

_"We to deal with this problem before it develops to something more… awful."_

_"Of course, of course, I trust your judgement on the case."_

_The boy sat on a chair, lazily swinging his feet back and forth. It was his tenth year of life, and never had he felt more miserable. It wasn't regret or anger that had reduced him to… this, but the very fact that he was helpless with the changes being made in his life. _

.

.

_"I'll be your new psychologist, Mr.-"_

_"Seventh this month."_

_"Pardon?"_

_"You're my seventh psychologist this month," he said matter-of-factly. "All the others were too scared - they called it not professional enough or some shit like that, but I saw it in their eyes - to come and see me again."_

_"Mr. Merwin-"_

_"It's Drake."_

.

.

Autumns had passed by. Drake was no longer a boy; he was turning into a full-grown teenager. There's still no help though and his issues seem to increase, and he didn't experience normal teenage things such as falling in love, getting zits, worrying about popularity or such. Instead he became more and more an outcast of society, but somehow was still a part of it, no one daring to push him out completely.

("Fear. That's how I get respect.")

He was stuck at Coates Academy, and it felt like a dollhouse, surrounded by not-so-real teenagers that he did not - could not - communicate with.

("But that's fine," Drake had said once, "I like dolls. The live ones, that is. It's the fucking house I can't stand.")

.

.

_The man said nothing as Drake entered. The psychopathic child stood gazing at him with slightly curious eyes - why wasn't the man licking his boots like all the others had done? - and an awaiting posture that he'd acted in. _

_Now, the problem was that Drake didn't know that his parents actually did care about their son - or about their son's rumour, anyhow - and did know everything about his hatred for psychologists. So what do rich parents do when their kid is a distressed psychopath? Talk to him? Try to understand him?_

_No, they'd sent a professional, this time. _

_The man swung to face Drake out of a sudden, thereafter leaning back in the black office chair. _

_Drake watched the man with mixed emotions, drinking in every detail of his appearance so he could find a possible weakness to exploit._

_The man had a thick, black moustache and slicked-back hair in the same colour, and also had a big Cuban cigar hanging out of his mouth. Brilliant blue eyes watched him from over those glasses and underneath the thick, narrowed eyebrows, and in his hands he held an old, dusty book. "Ah, I did not see you there Mr. Merwin," he said smoothly in a barely-existent European accent._

_'Liar,' Drake thought, and grit his teeth together. "So you're the new one, huh? How much did they pay you to see me?" _

_The man didn't show any shock that Drake spoke to him with such a poisonous tongue, and instead tilted his head to the side, eyes alight with interest. "They paid me enough to buy these cigars, at least. My name is Eric Wikse, and you can refer to me as Doctor Wikse when talking to me, Mr. Merwin." _

_"I don't care."_

_"Neither do I, but it is standard procedure, Mr. Merwin. I'm obligated to start our meeting with a presentation." He took a long drag from the cigar. _

_"They don't allow smokin' in here," Drake said, face twisted into an unreadable expression hinting that he still wasn't sure of his opinion on the man. Drake oozed wariness. Who knew what his parents had said to him? _

_"Well they do now," Dr. Wikse said, smile never faltering and somehow never appearing the least bit of fake. Genuine amusement was there, and Drake couldn't stand it. "Moving on to more accurate subjects, we might as well discuss why you're here."_

_"I shot a kid with my father's gun and got sent to Coates." Drake didn't twitch when he said it, his tone bored, as if he was discussing what he'd had for dinner. "Why? 'Cos he was a bastard."_

_Dr. Wikse frowned, and scribbled something down in a small, black notebook. He brought the pen to his lips, thinking a bit. "Hmm… Direct at the subject, aren't we, Mr. Merwin?" When he got no verbal answer, just a look of dissatisfaction, he continued, a notch smugger, "You almost murdered him. Does that make you feel something?"_

_"Regret."_

_Dr. Wikse raised an eyebrow. _

_"Regret 'cos I didn't manage to kill him properly." Drake didn't twitch while muttering this, staring right ahead of himself, like in some sort of trance. "I was close… But somehow, the fucker didn't die." He half-expected his doctor to shout something like "Language!" like the others had, but Wikse seemed more busy scribbling in his notebook to care. _

_"And you'd do it again if you had the chance, correct?"_

_"Yeah." _

_Dr. Wikse laid the notebook down. "Now that we're finished with the must-do-stage, I want to ask you some personal questions. I'd advise you to answer, but I won't force you. Think of it as a challenge." Drake's eyes lightened up. "Yes, a challenge. My first question is, what did you feel when you shot that boy?"_

_"Happiness."_

_"Really? No guilt whatsoever?"_

_"What you want me to say, doc? That I cared for that son of a bitch? If I didn't, I wouldn't have done what I did in the first place, would I now?"_

_"There are many possible murder motives, Mr. Merwin. Your mind could have been clouded because of various reasons…"_

_"I tried killing him 'cos I wanted to. I had no motive. Like I said, he was an ass, and I'd done the world a favour if he'd stayed dead, but that's not the reason. I did it because there was a gun in my hand, not 'cos he called Mia a whore." _

_(Angels of death are as cold as stone, they say.)_

_"You call your mother by first name?"_

_Drake shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't feel anything for her."_

_"Nothing it all?"_

_"Nah. She gives me food and shelter, and ain't that annoying. But she's not my mom." Drake crossed his arms. "She doesn't deserve be called a mother, partly because I don't want one but also because she ain't fit."_

_"What sort of mother isn't fit for mothering, Mr. Merwin?"_

_"The same sort of mother that gives her son a gun for his ten-year-old birthday." _

_"What about your father? He seems… several notches brighter."_

_"I don't like him too much. But you already know that, I've answered this before, and it's probably in my file."_

_Dr. Wikse ignored the last part. "And why is that?"_

_"He sent me here. I don't care who told him, what made him to it or whatever the fuck he feels, but I damn straight hate this place. It's like an… an insane asylum. The white walls, they're… They're like, almost swallowing me whole." Drake starting shifting uncomfortably, but noticed his doctor's curious stare and straightened up. "I'm not too fond of madhouses, doc."_

_"And why is that, Mr. Merwin?"_

_"Personal reasons." _

_Dr. Wikse stared at him for a while, then out of a sudden, smirked and swung the chair around. "That should be enough for today. I'd like for you to visit me on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I need to make a few phone calls, so go back to your class."_

_Drake didn't understand, but shrugged and did as he was told. As soon as the door had closed behind him, the professional psychologist dialogued a number, speaking with quick words and small sentences. "Yes. No. Yes." Like that it continued for a while. "Oh no, cancel those. I want the books on psychoanalysis back. Why? This boy… is a curious case."_

.

.

_Drake didn't understand his new psychologist. The man was unreadable and untouchable in every way, and it made Drake's blood boil. How the hell was he unaffected by Drake's tries on catching him off guard with a macabre comment or dream that would twist any normal person's stomach to shreds? _

_So today he'd attempt something newer, something madder, that would scare away the bastard. It wasn't that he hated Dr. Wikse, but the question sessions progressed, although slowly, and the questions became more and more hard to answer for each day. He'd see him on every Tuesday afternoon, and this was one of those days._

_"How's your day been, Mr. Merwin?" Dr. Wikse asked, still writing something and not tearing his eyes away from it._

_"Unproductive," Drake answered, too excited to think of a proper horrifying reply. "But today I got a question forrrr ya, doc," he purred, and didn't sit down. This made Dr. Wikse look up, especially when Drake locked the door behind them. And when he saw the bloodied scissors Drake held, the truth of his good mood appeared. _

_"So…" Dr. Wikse stood up from his chair, something he did very rarely during sessions. "I understand what you're attempting, but I'll say it still - sit down and let go of the sharp objects."_

_"Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it, doc?" Drake hummed, loving to be in charge for once. And think, all it took was a pair of scissors! Even if he'd had to wrestle it out of a geek's hands, it was still worth it._

_But there still was no fear on Dr. Wikse's face, making Drake's inner desires increase. "You could lay down the scissors and we could forget about this episode," Dr. Wikse told him in a calm, but also a bit threatening voice. It wasn't downright thunderous, but for some reason, Drake almost did as he was told, blinking a few times before his brows turned downwards once more._

_"I'm afraid not."_

_"Interesting choice of words… Tell me, what _are_ you afraid of Mr. Merwin?"_

_This took Drake by surprise. "What?"_

_"Hm, let me think, what makes you uncomfortable. How about Holden? What did he tell you to drive you that mad?" The psychologist stood up, smirking, also stepping forward. "No, that's too small. Aha! Got it! Madhouses. There's something about the thought of being stored inside a mansion forever, surrounded by white walls, with a claustrophobic feel, that throws you off, correct?"_

_"What the hell do you think you're-"_

_"Have you ever been to a madhouse, Drake?" He'd come closer, standing just a few decimetres from his patient now. Then the scissors were ripped out of his hands and thrown across the room. "Because it isn't a place you'd want to be. I can stop you from ending up there, but you need to cooperative on these sessions. It's extremely important, and fail to take action with your mentality will lead to you being stuck. Inside. A. Madhouse." He put emphasis on the last four words._

_Dr. Wikse let go and turned around, swiftly. "Now shoo. Get back when you're not feeling particularly murderous." _

_Drake just stood there, gaping. _

_"You need help, Mr. Merwin. Believe me." _

_A silence roamed. The scissors hit the ground, but Drake hadn't seemed to notice._

_"…Doctor?" Drake breathed, still in awe over how scary Wikse could be when he wanted._

_"Yes, Mr. Merwin?"_

_"I don't want any help."_

_"I know, Mr. Merwin."_

_Drake closed the door, breathing hard. That hadn't gone as planned. He disliked his psychologist greatly, but… But it didn't change the new respect he now had for the man. And he hated it. _

.

.

_Five months had passed. Drake was fourteen, and the two of them were doing Rorschach games at that moment. _

_"I don't like them, doc."_

_"I know, Mr. Merwin. But please tell me, Mr. Merwin, what do you see on this picture?" _

_"A beautiful butterfly," was Drake's immediate answer. _

_His doctor sighed, removing his glasses in an attempt to be convincing. "Listen to me Merwin. I know you don't like it here. You feel threatened. And what is it that triggers such an aggressive attitude?"_

_"Fear," Drake repeated, mildly annoyed. _

_His psychologist walked towards the window, opening it. Not caring that it wasn't allowed, he lit an old Cuban cigarette once. Drake now knew he was paid loads of money by his own parents, so he could allow himself such luxuries. "Indeed, Mr. Merwin. You are a bright young man, after all. Now, let us try again. You won't get better unless we find a way to help you."_

_'What if I don't want help?' Drake thought, but said nothing, just nodded weakly in response. "Can you at least drop the whole Mr.-thing? It… It doesn't feel right." He was speaking from the heart, if he had one; it was as if someone bolded out the whole Mr. Merwin thing, screaming vilely in his head whoever mentioned, madly uncomfortable. Drake hadn't said please though, and the doctor just nodded._

_"I would like to keep this professional, but as you wish, Mr- I mean… Drake." Secretly, the man wondered who named their son that. "Again, what do you see?"_

_Drake didn't even need to focus; he'd gotten the mental imagery when he saw the picture the first time. He narrowed his eyes, but the side of his lips twitched in excitement. _

_"There's a… clown. Yes, there's a clown. He's dancing, and those little splatters of purple, they - they are… blood, I think. Right? So he's dancing in blood. Maybe it's Pennywise the Dancing Clown? Y'know who he is right, from that old horror flick?" _

_There wasn't the need to rebel or cause shock in Drake's voice, instead he was downright fascinated with the multi-coloured dots on the little white card. Any sane person would see just… dots, but then again, Drake wasn't what one could call perfectly sane. _

_"I've read that book. Stephen King, if I recall correctly. What about this one?" _

_"Hm… There's letters there. Don't cha see them? Spells l-o-v-e. Then there's a little girl, and she's fi- I'm not sure if I like this card. Can we move on?" _

_"Of course, whatever you wish, Drake."_

_'If that was the truth I'd been out of here a long time ago, my friend,' Drake thought. _

_"How about this?"_

_"That's a rhino for sure. It's scull is cut open. I get see the… insides, all pink and red and grey. I think someone's used an axe or something, but its guts is all running out and shit… Pretty damn disgusting." Drake didn't puke however, he grinned like a fucking serial killer maniac. _

_Dr. Wikse stared at Drake for a moment. "That's enough cards, don't you think? I know you're fonder of expressing yourself through art and such…" Drake nodded, a bit insecure. Although he'd been psychoanalyzed since his parents had become observant of his strange behaviour, he never quite got real comfortable with the doctors. They invaded personal matters, something he despised. _

.

.

_"We'll try something different today. A method often used by Freud himself," Dr. Knave spoke with fondness in his voice, taking a long drag of the Cuban cigar. "Interpretation of dreams. Your file says you were plagued by nightmares as a child, is this still the case?"_

_Drake nodded, slightly insecure. The man so easily got underneath his skin, knowing everything about him because of that damned, damned file. "We had a little about that in school… Ruined their friendship, didn't it? Between… Freud and that other psychoanalyst guy? 'Cos Freud didn't want him to know his dreams?"_

_"Well, no one knows for sure, but it is guessed that that was one of the things that threw a spanner into their partnership. Great minds, but different views of life, I think."_

_"Kinda like us," Drake tried, careful, eyes observing Dr. Wikse's reaction, "doctor."_

_"I cannot be allowed to see you as my friend, because you are my patient, Drake. But… Perhaps in another lifetime, we could have things in common. But back to our main subject, would be you interested in sharing some of these dreams?"_

_"Yeah, sure."_

_Trust?_

_Drake wondered if this was true. Did he trust the man? He wasn't sure, but everything was probably in his file, so yeah, what was the point of lying? Drake had no ages long education that made him the most intelligent being on this school, nor had he any higher IQ than the normal thirteen-year-old. He had no way of detecting hidden messages indicating that Dr. Wikse was treating him as a madman. He couldn't possibly predict if Dr. Wikse was lying or not._

_"Then begin," the man said, twirling the moustache with two fingers and searching in a drawer for his notebook with the other hand._

_"Well… I don't know where to start. I dreamt more as a kid, and it resulted in… Fuck, I'm not sure I want to talk about it." Silence, then came a sigh of obedience. "Fine. I've always been a fan of horror movies, even as a kid, and I saw the worst of the worst. But I didn't like monster movies; they just weren't… satisfying enough. I really liked… gory movies."_

_Dr. Wikse's eyebrows shot up, but Drake continued, too lost within his own dwellings to notice the danger-sign. _

_"Ever heard of Hannibal Holocaust? My first real gore film. Was eight. Heard that it was banned in some countries and it kinda caught my interest. And before you ask, no, my parents didn't watch me twenty-four seven and don't know shit about it. But yeah, so I saw the film, and… I didn't care for rape. Didn't even understand what the fuck was going on at that time, and it leaves with me with nothing no either; I'm no sick creep. But so I watched it, and when the animal eating thing started… I kinda, y'know liked it."_

_"You dreamt of this, Mr- I mean Drake?"_

_This brought Drake out of his trance, and he blinked several times before comprehending what had been said. "Yeah I was gettin' to that point. Um, yeah, I had these dreams… Hurting animals, mostly. Like that turtle in Hannibal Holocaust, y'know. I had them, a lot."_

_For some bizarre reason, Dr. Wikse smirked, all while scribbling something down in his notebook. "And you still have them don't you?"_

_Again Drake was brought out of his trance. He felt too calm, and something in the back of his mind screamed at him to stay quiet, but he didn't listen. "Yeah. I… I still have them. Sometimes. Not that often, though, I'm more… I'm more comfortable here. Even with the white madhouse walls."_

_"Ah."_

_"And…"_

_"Yes?"_

_"I think I like watching people get hurt too, doc."_

_His doctor's smirk grew wider._

.

.

_"…and she smiled, I'm pretty sure 'bout that one, and as the glass shard slipped deeper I… kinda lost…"_

_"You lost yourself, I presume? Or 'had a moment', as you refer to your little escapes from reality…"_

_"Yeah, kinda. Isabelle screamed all the time though. But I think she liked it. Yeah, she definitly liked it, 'cos even though there were tears and blood and sweat, all mixed up, I swear she smiled at me, begged me to do it. Wanted it deeper into her arm, near the vein, near her life-line, bring her nearer to death…"_

_He spoke, and as what he thought was necessary to keep up with his "recovery", trusting. But it wasn't wise to trust a person who's not your friend, and there's a difference between being a good patient and a good friend. Drake failed to see this line because he was blended by foolishness, and the desire to tell his macabre tales; after all an accomplished quest is nothing if you can't tell people about it. _

_Illusions don't last forever._

_This one shattered, like glass._

_"Mr. Merwin, I'm finished with your file."_

_"…What?"_

_Dr. Wikse was almost looking down at him like a riddle he'd used energy to figure out and now that he knew the stupid answer, felt nothing but emptiness. The reason he'd taken the Merwin case was for a challenge; looking into the deep mind of a very, very deranged boy. He cared little for the result; it was figuring Drake out that had made him to it. _

_"Your file, Mr. Merwin. Your parents asked me to psychoanalyze you and see if you had possible mental illnesses and it appears they were right.""_

_"…What?"_

_"You suffer from reality delusions, thinking that people actually like you when you hurt them. You also have the qualities of a sadist, taking joy from inflicting immense pain on other creatures, making me label you as a psychopath, to be exact. You are a very sick boy and need help I cannot provide." His tone stayed as blasé as before, and the man even dared to start reading, like the subject was of no interest to him anymore._

_"_No_. I-I'm not gonna go to a madhouse, I'm _NOT_!" _

_"Still at that, are we?"_

_"…I thought you were supposed to help me… I had… I thought…"_

_"But it really says something about your state of mind, doesn't it? Don't let yourself be lulled into false companionship with your assigned doctor. I was paid to check your state of mind, and have concluded what's wrong after hours of talking, that you are mentally unstable, suffering from an eternal lack of most human emotions. You said yourself you wish to inflict pain on others, and I cannot help you get rid of them, because I'm not qualified at the area."_

_"So you're saying I am crazy? Mad? Utterly and completely _insane_?"_

_"Well, I'm saying you're rather… different than most young men. I wouldn't use such a strong term as mad but… you definitely lack sanity, Mr. Merwin, but I think you already knew that." Dr. Wikse took a long drag of his Cuban cigar._

_Drake wasn't listening anymore. "…But… I…" He started chuckling, pitch rising and falling, almost hysterical, "Why is it insane, Wikse? Why not _un_-sane? _In_-sane? Is there darkness you have to go into? Is there darkness there, doc, along with the madness? Is t-there really an inner madhouse, up here," Drake pointed at his temple, visibly shaking. "I… can't…"_

_"Calm down. This is the exact reason why you need help, Mr. Merwin. I'm not even sure if Coates can handle you anymore, and I've requested from your parents a place where you'll be better influenced… I'm waiting for their reply. In the mean time, my doctor background permits me to choose the proper medication. You'll take three of these pills each day, and it will brighten your mood and keep the strongest urges in check-"_

_"What are those?" Drake interrupted, attention captured by a glass container on the doctor's desk. _

_Inside was what looked like multi-coloured candy, consisting of a mess of red and white and black. But just like the doctor and the patient's ugly relationship, the real thing wasn't all gumdrops and rainbows. They were not candy; not something sweet; nothing something good; it was actually the medicine Drake hated the thought of._

_"What is what, Mr. Merwin?"_

_"Those… things… on your desk." _

_"That is your new medicine, Mr. Merwin. I suggest you start taking them now." _

_The black and white and red pills tasted like paper with a tiny hint of salt; not a bad nor good flavour, but it was the meaning of swallowing those pills Drake despised. He submitted, and unintentionally, declared himself insane. Only mad people take pills. _

_"And you're no monster, by the way. That theory is something you should throw out. You're human, just like everyone else on this school. In fact… there's nothing remotely special about you apart from your mental problems. You're human."_

_"H-H-Human?"_

_"Human," Dr. Wikse confirmed._

_"WHAT?"_

_This could not be the truth. Drake's head hurt, and he clutched it, fingers ripping out strands of blonde. All his life he'd known he was abnormal, an animal, a monster, a _freak_. And now this man came out of nowhere and declared him normal? It went against everything Drake had thought himself, he wasn't special, he was just another freak, another lunatic to be placed in the goddamn… __**madhouse**__._

_Dr. Wikse ignored his outburst, not seeing how the pupils in his eyes turned small because Drake was having another one of his little 'moments'. "Are you feeling ill Mr. Merwin? You look pale… Have you experienced any sort of allergy before? It wasn't mentioned by your parents or in your former file, so I assumed…"_

_**No!**_

_"…Dr. Wikse, I heard shouting and I thought- Oh god JONAH GET A HOLD ON THE RABID TEEN! Are you okay doctor? He didn't hurt you too badly did he?"_

_**No!**_

_"Be careful with the Merwin child, he'll choke if you hold him too tight. And no I'm fine thank you; there was no serious damage involved since he's still very young, so there's no use sedating him just yet. I'll be fine, and so will he, he just had some issues understanding his own state of mind…"_

_**No!**_

_"God he's like an animal. Get him out of here this instance… Oi, he seems to be passing out… You hanging in there, kid? Seems like you had an attack or something like that, you were all- Hey? Hey! Are you listening? Doctor, I think I need some more help…" _

_I-I'm no goddamn human…_

.

.

In some situations (not like this one) Drake thanked whatever force out there that the FAYZ had erupted. Had it not, there was a great chance he'd be sent to an asylum; a real madhouse, not just like the ones in the horror movies.

Drake really, really hated madhouses.

(But in his hidden heart tunnels - void and empty - there are whispers, quiet and silvery, preserved in the heart walls, hidden from the owner himself. They whisper about thoughts, feelings, and experiences, which Drake won't acknowledge or admit. Not even to himself.)

_'Madness is like gravity - all it takes it a little push.'_

(In reality - and what a bitter reality it is - Drake Merwin is downright terrified of madhouses, and also the idea of madness itself.)

.

.

_"Do you still dream of hurting those animals, Drake?"_

_'Why is it always 'Drake' and not 'Mr. Merwin' when I'm no threat?' he thought._

_There was no physical damage he could inflict; nothing of that sort since the straightjacket he wore during those stupid sessions after he'd tried to hurt his newest doctor. But words can be just as dangerous as a punch to the pressure point near the neck, and like a monster, Drake smiled sickly. _

_"No doc. I dream of hurting you."_

.

.

When she first met him in the hallway out Coates Academy after his little secret mission, there was something that clouded all other decisions and thoughts.

Drake Merwin looked like shit.

"I got what we needed," he said, oddly quiet.

Food.

His hair was glued to his face with hardened blood, evidence on that something heavy - like an aluminium - had been smashed against his forehead. Mercuric orbs were blood-shot, cheeks red from running and evidence of a split lip. He'd been in a fight, so much was clear. His shirt was ragged and his black jeans torn, several long cuts on the places where sickly pale flesh were visible.

Diana would've mocked him in any other situation, but after having to deal with a near-hysterical four-bar (who had just had one of his gruesome 'moments') she was in no mood for getting punched or screamed at. Not that Drake looked in any condition to fight, but she preferred being on the safe side. "Okay. Bring the supplies into the school kitchen, we'll hide them there," she replied.

He stopped for a moment, not liking to be ordered around. He considered hurting her there and then, with no mad Caine around. But when he stepped towards her in a bloodshed time of desire pain razed through his weakened body, slipping him out of the sadistic trance. He lost the bags he'd been carrying, and clutched the upper side of his arm. "Jesus…" he muttered, forgetting all about his former try to maim her.

Careful, Diana stepped forward while he was unable to attack and snatched the bags from him. She wasted no pity on monsters. "You got hit by a bullet, didn't you? If you don't remove it you'll get an infection and probably die horribly."

"Don't… make fun of me…" he hissed in-between the continuing pain. Blood pumped around in his head and he suspected he was developing a fever. He was on the floor now, on all fours like a dirty dog, panting and drooling and bleeding and coughing. Just like an animal. Not a human.

"I'm not," she said, tone blasé, and chewed on her bottom lip. "Just informing you, Merwin."

"How nice of you Ladris… didn't know you… cared."

"I don't do that either. Like I said, just telling you. There's ibux in the kitchen. Help me with these bags and I'll tell you exactly where they are. Now get up." Diana switched to have all her body weight from her left foot to her right, and continued like that, not managing to stand completely still.

_'Your life is in deep shit if you are dependant on Merwin, a pure psychopath, to stay alive and carry a few bags for you,' _she thought grimly_. "To an outsider it would seem like I cared for him. Bullshit.' _

He got up, looking just miserable as before. But he said nothing, just tore a bag from her, hissing something underneath his breath. He walked forward; the first few steps accompanied by groans and pained "gahh!"-noises, before his walk got a little better. However, he was clumsy, staggering like a drunk who'd just had both his precious legs broken and sat together again. Diana knew better then to comment on this, however.

The two of them wandered through the void halls in utter silence, except of course the minor sounds escaping Drake now and then. Their shoes made footprints in the increasing layer of dust, showing evidence that this part of Coates hadn't been used a lot lately.

Soon they arrived in the school kitchen. She looked around to make sure they were alone, knowing that hiding the food was death-important so no Coates students would sneak into it and steal food. She looked at the floor, looking for potential footprints, and found none other than the ones she'd made this morning with Bug and all. But Bug wouldn't dare cross Drake after the 'conversation' they'd had before he left, and didn't know how weak the psycho was at that moment.

Drake collapsed on the black-and-white kitchen floor, right beside a famous orange spot where a student had once balanced three pots of spaghetti on her head and kind of lost all of them, resulting in said spot.

He contrasted with the kitchen, mixing red (from his face - hands - clothes - hair) along with the white and black.

Also this time Diana wasn't attacked when she got the bags from him and placed them on the kitchen desk, recalling this was where a normal Caine had just been overly pleased with making a decent meal, during the times Coates didn't resemble a madhouse.

(Coates **not** resembling a **madhouse** was _her_ opinion, though.)

Once she got a real look at the can food Drake had gotten, she had serious problems keeping her hands to herself and not gormandize them all then and there. Restraining herself, even though Drake was too busy being in total agony, she didn't.

She hid the cans of tomato sauce - a rare luxury in their twisted little world - in a metal cupboard, which she had the key to. But she had to take one herself before that, almost throwing out a drawer in her rapid search for the tin opener, then finding it and opening the little piece of heaven. She ate the rest of its content with greedy fingers.

Drake appeared out of normal, obviously having dragged himself over to her (the long red stripe on the ground indicated that), growling at her for not sharing. He grabbed the tin opener and a random can, caring little for the content when he almost swallowed all of it straight down.

Ignoring the tomato sauce around his face (or was it blood? She couldn't tell the difference), Diana spoke. "We need to save it, so don't eat so much more. And we also need to keep it hidden, so don't brag about your little Perdido Beach adventure, in case our minions turns on us, setting themselves before us."

"There's n-no 'us', Ladris," he stammered, angry.

"Shut up and do as I say," Diana ordered, hiding the rest of the bags in another cabinet. It wasn't as strong, but it was the best she could come up with. Too bad she already knew Caine had handed the two keys to both Drake and herself, meaning it was possible for him to take out how much he pleased. Oh well, at least she had her tomato sauce cans.

Drake bent down so he was about her height, warm chocolate-brown meeting cold, grey eyes. She saw no blue eyes in there, no sadness, innocence, nor any naïvety.

"Don't p-play all tough with me, you witch. One of these days I'll… k-kill you for sure, y'know. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day, Ladris, some day I'll slit your throat." He took a moment to breath, before a new stream of words stumbled out of his mouth. "And I'll enjoy it so damn much I'll probably laugh the hardest I've laughed in my life when the life disappears from your eyes and you lie there, dead."

The tomato sauce ruined some of the illusion of danger, but it didn't hide the seriousness of the threat itself. She didn't doubt for one single second that he would kill her when he had the chance. But now, she was the only one able to deal with the mad king, and Drake preferred it to stay that way.

"Now shoo," he hissed.

Diana turned around, knowing the slim-to-zero chances of coming out alive if she challenged his pride again. She turned over her shoulder after quite a few steps to see if he was glaring arrogantly at her or turned around so she could glare back with the same level of arrogance.

But no, what she saw was a very simple sight, but the meaning far too complicated for someone like her to understand.

Drake Merwin was using plastic wrap to wrap in the bloody bullet wound near his shoulder, extremely hot water (it fumigated) to clean his wounds, and also to wash away all the blood. His expression was in a great level of pain, and there were even tears he tried to hold back the tears burning behind his eyelids and almost floating over. Drake cried out when his fingers neared the bullet wound, trembling but still going through with it.

Diana couldn't bring herself to smirk.

Never had she seen Drake so… so… _human._

.

.

_"(You cover your eyes, you cover your mouth, you cover your ears)  
>Still you follow our trail<br>(We'll do it all, we'll do whatever you say)  
>God has left us anyway <em>

-Susanne Sundfør; "The Brothel"

.

.

…_Take a pack of cards. _

_There is a king, and there is a queen._

_(Those are the face-cards and are therefore worth more than the other ones; the unimportant ones - the one, to, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten… All depending on what game it is, of course, but in most games, the face-cards plays a larger part than the ones without. The faceless; the sheer nobodies compared to queens and kings. You have to be powerful when you're face-card; you got to earn the right to have a face.)_

_There's a third part in their twisted little game._

_To be exact, there's an ace too, in this twisted card-game of relationships. Wherever he stomps the flowers underneath his feet rot; the birds in the trees falls down; and humans turn away in disgust. Death follows in his footsteps like a dancing shadow just behind him, never visible but still there. Black crows sweep over him at all times._

_He's a murderer and a lunatic, someone who is banished from society after the chains loosened. _

_He's the Ace of Spades, the death card, to be exact. _

_But the King has gone mad. _

_The Queen, who is unable to rule his kingdom, is busy tending the wounds in his mind. _

_And the Ace of Spades is filled with holes and vile burn marks. _

_(Sad thing is there is no one to help a card that only brings death with him)._

.

.

Three days after the FAYZ had erupted, Drake had done something extraordinary. As face twisted in utmost terror of his own actions, he'd wandered over to the place where he'd been declared mad. And where he'd also been reminded of his own dreadful humanity, so it was safe to say Drake didn't like it there. Not one bit.

Two things were still clear on his mind as he walked into a zombielike trance into the psychologist office. First being that his file was there in the second drawer to the left, and second was that he needed to destroy it.

One time he'd attempted just this, but not really gone through with it. It was scary - slaughtering your own humanity. But then Drake had ripped the file to shreds, ruining his remaining humanity in the process. Drake had said nothing while he did the terrific deed; too focused in his task to delete all material that he was human.

_"Please be gone now."_

(Caine had, in a state of mild sanity, stood outside just when he'd witnessed Drake's odd actions.

"Ruining all signs of weaknesses so that others won't question his position as a leader…"

He had begun whispering to himself, before walking back to his room, leaving no trace of his eavesdropping at all.

"…what an oddly human thing to do."_)_

.

.

**A/N: **"Fear, that's how we get respect" is from the Batman videogame _Arkham City_, and the whole dollhouse thing is from _Arkham Asylum: a serious house on serious earth_, which is my favourite graphic novel of all time. Pennywise the Dancing Clown is from _IT_ (Stephen King) and that clown eats children. "Madness is like gravity - all it takes is a little push" is a tribute to the TDK Joker poster on my wall and my three Joker t-shirts. BATMAN 8D

Um, tried to show that Drake is very human, and has hormones just like every other teenager on this planet, and I'm guessing that although he cannot love, he feels the popularity pressure, the cost of being an outcast (although a powerful one). This, however, doesn't make him a misunderstood kid with some slight issues. Michael Grant refers to him as "the psychopath" and that's what I intend to write him as.


	3. Wonderful Wednesday

**Disclaimer:** If I was Michael Grant I'd be in Canada sipping on coconut juice. That's what they do over there, no?

**A/N:** All my notes on this chapter were actually just three mere words, "Caine's extreme mind", while the others had lotsa notes, draft work, and half-written scenes. Let's see what I managed to create out of that.

Beta'd by _wonderful_** DreamCather96**.

.

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**Mad Friends**

**Day III :: Wonderful Wednesday **

**+Apocalyptic Wonderland+ **

.

.

_"There's a place that I've found  
>As far as I can see<br>This place lies within  
>The depths of my dreams<br>In a garden surrounded  
>By fire and trees<br>Through the smoke a silhouette I can barely see  
>There's a man with an axe<br>Standing in the rain_

_Looked me straight in the eyes_  
><em>This is what he had to say<em>

_Never fall asleep_  
><em>You won't wake up<em>  
><em>Destroy the guillotine<em>  
><em>Before he does<em>

_I walk with shadows  
>(you have to find a better way)<br>I walk with shadows  
>(the questions I will never say)<br>Hiding from the gallows  
>(they keep me safe and sound)<br>So I walk with shadows  
>(the ways of burning down this house)<em>

_End transmission_  
><em>The satellites are down<em>  
><em>I need an earthquake<em>  
><em>To shake this pity<em>  
><em>OFF THE GROUND"<em>

"My Apocalypse"; Escape The Fate

.

.

_The school's motto was "Ad augusta, per angusta", which meant "To rise to a high position - overcome hardships". _

_Madness was considered an illness that one could be rid off with a cure, just like every other sickness. After all, a person with deranged mentality (even if he was physically healthy) could still be declared mentally **ill** by a psychologist. One can be birthed without feet as well as one can be born without sanity. _

_"To rise into a high position" was something one understood perfectly, it meant Coates would deliver a nice education for its kids. However, the sentence "To overcome hardships"…? Did this mean the mad could rise and shake of their madness, overcoming it even, getting higher, getting better? Can you be CURED of MADNESS?_

.

.

**HYSTERICAL. **

**SCREAMING. **

("…Oh no, not again, please no, just leave me alone just leave me alone I'm not listening I'm not listening…"

**BESTIAL.**

("Please! Mommy! I've been a good boy, a real good boy, I gave you presents, please help me now, don't let it hurt me, don't let him hurt-")

**NAKED in the pretence of the shining green beautiful MOON. **

("MOMMY HE'S TORMENTING ME SO, OH PLEASE GOD STOP IT, IT HURTS SO MUCH, MOMMY, MOMMY, MOMMY-")

**COVER yourself, COVER yourself, because you are nothing, NOTHING in the pretence of your almighty god. Take no notice of yourself, mortal, remember, always remember, you are NOTHING. **

("…There is no mother, are there…?")

.

.

He awoke then. Thought he did. But thinking and doing something are two very different things, and as murky green forest developed all around him, going from blurry forms to slim trees.

Caine walked through worlds.

Always changing, always vanishing, always emerging.

He'd stopped questioning his surroundings now, merely walking, his legs feeling no sort of tire, but he didn't run either. There was an expression on his face however, one of utmost terror, paranoia and fear mixing into a horrific mess of emotion.

Out of a sudden, a figure came closer; still all blurred out since it was further away than the trees. Caine didn't stop walking, but it didn't be gone, instead it followed.

He stopped, waiting. No one came to meet him, because the figure stopped just like he did.

Was it another monster?

Caine didn't like monsters.

"Hello? Anybody there?"

"Well of course there is someone there, or here, depending on the point of view" was the smart answer.

"Who?" Caine asked sharply, becoming annoyed.

"Someone."

"Where?"

"Here."

Caine's mouth twisted into a sneer. This didn't sound like a monster, but he could not be sure. Taking a step of the road, the mist that had blurred his sight, now sucked him in. In a moment or two, with a simple blink, the world had changed again.

(Stay with the road of safety; and you will stay in ignorance and bliss. Go off the path and you might discover wonderful things, but also terrible, maddening things.)

He didn't question the change of worlds anymore. Too used to it. Too scared that the unpredictable characters of the new world would attack him. Too… _mad_ to see the difference between the real world and his crazy imagination.

Out of a sudden he was sitting with a long table, packed with teapots and cups, all smoking and hot so the fresh smell of newly-bred tea flew into Caine's nostrils. The chair he sat in was comfortable enough, and he smiled a little, sinking down into the comfortable sweetness.

This didn't seem like a nightmare, even if he'd learned to ignore his own opinion on those things. But for a little while, he would enjoy it, till it stopped being fun. Only for a little while.

"Would you like some more tea, Caine?" the Mad Hatter-looking **Drake** asked, holding up a bright pink teapot, before it randomly starting floating in the air. It started tea-ing (in his mind, this was a word, because Drake had taught him so a long time ago) up the cup till it ran over, and Drake shooed it away with a "That's quite enough thank you."

"Yeah," Caine answered, now knowing that this probably weren't reality. He hoped, at least, because either that or Drake was smoking something else than cigarettes. The teapot was eager to please, and kept on tea-ing his cup.

"But oh, Drake, what shall I do?"

"Visit the Red Queen, of course. Haven't you understood that she needs you? The queen is nothing without her king," Drake said matter-of-factly.

"How can you know that I'm a king?"

"Well, you sit, speak and talk like a king. And only a king would stick out his little finger when drinking a grand cup of tea~! Or is that the queen?" Drake smiled madly, one eye twitching rapidly. They were changing colour now, going from bright blue to silver to bright blue again. "King or queen, you're no… no… _Alice_!"

Drake fell out of his chair, his big purple fluffy chair, and out of a sudden dragged the table cloth with his as well, it all ending in a mess. Caine had lifted his teacup up and was sitting on it, ignoring the hysterical chuckles from the grass ground. There was paper all around him, paper Drake had ripped to sheds, but Caine found it entirely normal. Entirely _human_.

"Yes, but oh my dear mad friend-"

"The maddest of males," Drake giggled from the ground.

"Yes, my mad hat-maker friend, I know that, though how shall I get there?" Caine wondered. "Through forests, or over waters, or across more worlds?" Speaking in such an old tongue wasn't straining at all, and it didn't cross his mind to ponder on this.

"No _ALICE_!" The hysterical giggles continued.

"No, still not, but I wonder-"

"Yes, I heard, I heard." Drake sat up, suddenly serious. "All you need to do is to wish. Wish and stay. Stay in the madhouse here, in your own mind. Isn't it beautiful?" This caused his eyes to change colour again. "Beautiful _and_ horrible." By the new words, a white branch curled around his arms, lifting him up in the air.

"It is beautiful yes but not ho-"

"Idiot king," Drake rudely cut him off, all manners forgotten along with his hat, which fell to the ground. The branches curled tighter, looking like it hurt, but the dream Drake didn't seem to care, just flinched. "You always were… an idiot…

"What are you doing?"

"Saying things… Smart things…" Now the branches wouldn't let him say anymore. Drake stayed quiet for a little while, and they stopped squeezing so hard, but soon, he started speaking again.

"Think of it as my repayment to you for not… killing me - not yet anyhow." The white branches squeezed too tightly now, and Drake laughed and screamed, tears starting to run down his eyes. It was so sudden, lifting him up and then choking him to death. But it didn't kill him - instead it dragged him underground, the white branches being gone along with him.

Caine stood up, wondering if the nightmare now begun, but then the mist began surrounding him again and he knew he had to walk to his next destination. Someone talked to him, with a gentle yet harsh voice, telling him to do things. He stopped up and became vaguely aware that someone was trying to force-feed him outside the madhouse, and with a small gasp, he hurried on the road and the voices disappeared again, little after little.

_("Caine! _Caine_? Is that the real you? I thought- Oh you want your teddy bear. I'm such an idiot for thinking… Yeah yeah, I'll bring it to you now…")_

Then it vanished completely.

Drake had told him to stay, hadn't he? But it was confusing… Somewhere in his brain something screamed for him to remember Drake's words, but the mist started thickening again and Caine ran to not get eaten by it. Why he was so afraid for what hid in it, was something he couldn't answer. He just knew something horrible would happen if he got swallowed by it.

Out of a sudden he came to clearing.

There, three meters in front of him, sat a queen. Was it the queen he was supposed to look for? Caine decided to stay a little while to be sure.

In the middle of the small clearing - with no other roof then the star-covered night sky - there was a carpet, dark bluish as the ocean itself. On top of it was a glass table, so beautiful it had to be polished in less than hours ago, and it had a table cloth thrown over, which was in the exact same colour as the carpet on the grass.

Beside the table was two glass chairs, and the queen sat in one them. Because, one mere look at her, and you just knew she had an appearance only worthy of a queen. She had long, chocolate hair, huge eyes in the same colour and very, very pale skin. In her eyes were a sort of tire you only find among dying people, and she was sitting with a small table.

In contrast to the Hatter Drake, she didn't seem quite as mad and by the colour of the content in her cup, Caine guessed she was more into coffee than tea. The cups were also made of glass - how strange, he decided.

There was a boy too, right beside her, all dressed in black. The only thing that contrasted the dark was his pale skin, brown hair, midnight-blue eyes and those dark circles underneath his eyes, going against the pure white skin. He seemed blasé in each way possible; not uttering a word as he poured some more black liquid into her cup.

"Thank you, butterfly," she said.

Then she turned to the bushes where Caine had just come to sight, smiling politely at him, eyes half-lidded. "Well well, if it isn't the mad king," the queen greeted.

A mad king? So that was what he was known in this universe? Caine said nothing, just gave a tight little nod, walking forward to sit down with her table. He couldn't stop looking at the one just called a butterfly, who stayed behind the queen's chair, making no move to offer Caine some coffee.

She noticed. "Who this is?" she gestured to the boy, who couldn't be much older than she was. "Ah, it's the shadow of a butterfly."

"He looks more like a _human_ to me."

"One cannot judge a book by is cover," the queen said wisely. "Although he appears alive, emotionless, and perhaps even cruel, he once was a butterfly boy. One who played upon the waves of life, fell off, and lost his wings, in a way. Now he's nothing but a shadow." Diana's eyes again became half-lidded as she gazed upon the 'butterfly' before her, he still having said nothing.

"How cute and dumb," the mad king pondered.

"Cute and dumb?" the mad queen wondered.

"Cute because it doesn't suspect that someone will hurt it, that someone is evil enough to tear its precious little wings off, and dumb because it won't realize that it's about to be broken before it's too late." Caine pointed at the shadow butterfly, who stared back with beautiful and empty eyes.

"Carefree, playing upon the waves of life. Naïve, not knowing of evil. If you stick out a finger, perhaps it'll land on it. It won't think that you'll extend your fingers and crush it underneath your thumb," Caine smiled like a fucking lunatic.

A smile reached Diana's lips because of the sinister subject. "I found him without wings, without hope. I gave him a new body, and although he has all limbs attached, he's still broken."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Caine asked.

Diana raised an eyebrow. "No. I'm not telling you anything. I'm just indicating something, something very important."

"And that is…?"

"You're losing yourself, mad king, becoming even madder than even I can handle."

Caine had no answer for that.

"Would you like some more coffee, m'dear queen?" the shadow butterfly wondered in a quiet voice, his voice like burning coal, if that was even possible.

Thereafter, underneath her breath, too low for neither the king nor the monarch to hear, she said, "Brothers have a tendency to choose to same path. And in this path, they're walking together, not hand in hand but still together. The path you two are walking is the path of madness."

"My queen?" he repeated.

"Yes thank you, Sam," she answered the butterfly boy, who nodded and pouted her some more. Caine frowned when he heard the familiar name, but couldn't recall who it belonged to. It didn't bother him so much, because she was certainly mad after all.

Another shadowy figure appeared in the forest. It didn't come too close, and its thin white hands - what Caine had thought to be branches - could not reach neither her nor could it touch the silent boy beside her. Still the queen could hear it screaming for her to do something, the branch fingers reaching for her, but too many miles away to touch. Then another figure appeared, but this one moved freely, and instinctually, the boy beside her trembled.

(If it was the figure's doings in the _past_ or _future_ the butterfly is the only one who knows.)

"Well if it isn't the Mad Queen." Drake took of his hat, bowing down to her. She made a curtsey, but her expression stayed disgusted. "But I can call you the weak queen now, 'cos see how far the mad has fallen~! Will you dance with me, at least?"

"Oh? I, weak? You're nothing but a horse, chosen to bring messages, infested radioactive handprints all over your brain." Diana took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "But yes, I will dance with you, Merwin."

"I'm glad."

"Of course you are," she said rather sharply, always quick to reply. He took her hands in his - her tiny, little hands - and studied the flawless pale skin for a moment before he drew her closer, so they were chest against chest. Being taller and all, he looked down and smirked.

Music started playing, the piano sounds coming from nowhere in particular. There was a piano somewhere, she could tell, but it seemed to be a piano behind every ebony tree that surrounded the clearing they danced on. He led her back and forth slowly at first, leading, and she discovered he was quite good at it.

For a moment she allowed herself to enjoy the music, forgetting who she was dancing with and why he'd done it. She thought, for a moment - and only for a moment - that she was in some European country, dancing with someone dangerous, like a hitman of some sort, and she being someone rich and famous not in love but enamoured sick with the man in front of her.

Drake smiled sickly, observing her in her element.

"You're failing, sweet queen."

"Failing at what?"

"Becoming a puppet to the puppet master."

"I am my own master, thank you very much. Unlike you, who goes drooling after a leader as soon as you dismiss the other one, always looking for a stronger leader, never managing it yourself."

Drake frowned, forgetting how to respond. His mind was clouded, and he became vaguely aware that she didn't really exist since she wasn't under his master's full power, but still somehow knowing that she was Diana Ladris anyway, at least a piece of her soul.

(They were connected, the three of them - the king, the queen, and the ace of spades. When one fell, the others cannot help but fall with. In this situation, they fell into the rabbit hole - the madhouse.)

"I've seen it in your eyes sometimes, when you look at him. There's no rule that says that the queen has to give a rat's ass about the fucking king, but you still do, and I can't decide if it's 'cos you're starved on love or just plain stupid. The king's an ass and a goddamn _madman_, a lunatic without feelings. What you're thinking running after him is beyond me."

In-between all the curses and angry metaphors, the meaning was the only thing Diana heard. Four rather simple words. It was them Diana heard, those four gruesome words that burnt their way into her consciousness, into her heart roots like tattoos underneath it.

_"You care for him."_

Flames all around them, setting them on fire, and still they danced, till there was nothing left but two piles of ashes on the dream forest ground.

(Cards can blow away, and so can ashes. Soon there was nothing left but the clearing, the pitch black trees, the grass and the secretive whispers that someone had once danced here, still alone, even when so close to each other.)

Caine had turned in that last moment, watching them both burn to death. He raised an eyebrow and walked further.

(Without a king, both the queen and the ace are nothing. They can just gaze mindlessly at each other, not sure what to feel, silently watching the empty space between them. Without their king, they're nothing. Without Caine, Diana and Drake would break each other, one breaking the other, and eventually, the breaker would also break. Cards complete each other.)

No one noticed the servant standing there, alone. He remembered Drake's face in his head one last time before he opened his eyes.

He had brilliant blue eyes, one that shone with a light a hero only can harbour in his heart.

But no one saw, because all out of a sudden he started minimising, transforming into a wingless creature. A worm crawled on the ground, useless and mindless, before it was crushed underneath the youngest twin's foot.

After all, this was Caine Soren _and_ Drake Merwin's shared dream, having elements of both their past and desired future.

.

.

Caine was currently in a new room - or what he believed to be a room without walls - where what existed was nothing but rotten, watery _earth_. It rose above his chest, filling the void room with brown.

The sociopathic megalomaniac screamed for his mother.

(But it wasn't his actual mother he was screaming for, it was what a mother indicated; safety. A mother is the very symbol of love and affection and no matter how messed up an individual is, she or he is still _human _and humans crave for companionship in one way or another.)

The content that soon forced itself down his throat tasted like a blend of vomit, Indian spices and earth. The sour odour of mould filled his nostrils, invading them, pressing itself against his very will to be here. Coughing didn't stop this… this _taste_, this _smell, _this _feeling_, from glide down his throat, wet with salvia, or was it blood, perhaps?

Silence now.

No air to breathe.

Just the slimy sensation of some bad-tasting foul-smelling liquid-like _shit_ sliding down his throat.

Caine closed his eyes.

The moment he was sure his end would be caused of choking this mould-like _shit_ (and what a bitter ending that would be) all of it vanished. No warning, just poof. Gone.

"Déjà vu," Caine whispered.

He was in a new room now - and this time he was sure it was a room, because of the roof and walls and ground. He was no longer in a void pool full of earth-like, stinking only-god-knows-what.

There was a chequered floor underneath his feet; this was the first thing that hit Caine once he became aware of his surroundings, barely. The second thing was that he was wearing an unfamiliar child pyjama, but he soon forgot all about it. The rest of the huge room was so much more interesting - it wasn't ground underneath his feet; he was standing on a giant chess board.

Skeletons lay on each side of the huge chess board, most of them lacking a head, limb or jaw. They were shoved away though, forming a long path, where mist was covering the last part. Without thinking, Caine started walking. He noticed horse skeletons too, but didn't note of it.

Although there was evidence of battle, there was no blood. Caine wondered if the skeletons (when alive) had battled each other and if some godlike force had wiped them all out in seconds, spreading a gruesome plague or something.

_Find the Red Queen, little lost king. _

The Hatter Drake's voice rang in his ears, followed by a few giggles.

But he had, had he not? He'd found the lady in red, sitting peacefully sharing a cup of coffee with the nameless blue-eyed servant.

Drawn out of his thoughts with a new realizing, Caine straightened. It was a throne room, because he now saw the throne, big and beautiful and holy and scary. He looked forward as the mist began to clear, recognizing those dangerous and beautiful branches, which were curled up against the upper parts of the walls and the roof, as if they were holding the entire weight of it. He felt as if thousands of small eyes watched him from underneath every tiny white leaf.

"Hello?" he shouted, no longer wanting to hear. Still quite scared, he was rewarded but nothing but a long-lasting echo. "Is anybody home?"

Then he saw it, because the mist went away entirely. The thousand plants had seemingly devoured a extremely long staircase, started moving away, beginning with the ones nearest the ground and soon the thinner, more delicate ones on top. It all revealed the throne he'd just seen pieces of, which was painted golden and red, contrasting the endless whiteness.

Sitting on the throne, there was a man with hair and skin as white as snow. His simple jacket and pants were in the same colour, the colour of innocence, happiness and prettiness.

His eyes, however, his piercing almost radioactive green eyes, showed that there were seven thousand vile demons feasting where his heart should have been. The never-faltering smile on his thin lips indicated that Caine's expression brought him nothing but sadistic amusement and pleasure. The eyes also promised a slow and painful death for those who crossed this being.

Who was this man on the throne?

Caine could not recall.

He ignored his instincts that screamed to him to flee, telling him that he couldn't defeat this foe. That he would die. Here, in the bright white throne room, surrounded by skeletons and the evil man smiling at him.

"Caine. How glad I am that you could join us, me and my faithful pets. Too bad none of them stayed alive long enough to actually meet you…" the man gave a fake sigh, but the smile reappeared shortly after. "I've been watching you, my child."

That voice. Double-edged and hollow, but darkly amused at the same time; he could have recognized it anywhere on the planet, in nightmares and in dreams. Those emerald orbs twinkled with ultimate excitement and mischief because of what that had yet to come, and Caine found himself trembling in the Gaiaphage's august pretence.

"Yes, you're scared of me, aren't you? It's wise to have respect for those stronger than you, because they might spare your pitiful life in the process. Might." He - or it - laughed. It was a terrible sound, and Caine wished that he'd never hear it ever again. "But I'm glad that you're not being foolish, and actually trying to persuade me. That would just lead to general gruesomeness." A shrug followed, because the matter had become boring.

Caine took a step backwards, still shaking. He swallowed hard, "Fuck you, G-Gaiaphage." That was the most resistance he had put up in weeks, and as soon as those two spiteful words had left his bitter tongue, he started shaking like a madman just finished his first kill.

The chilling sound of the Gaiaphage's laughter filled his head.

"Why are you here? Invading my dreams?" Caine whispered with eyes insanely huge. The muscle under the left one was twitching insanely, the king growing madder - even here - for each word that slipped past the Gaiaphage's tongue.

The familiar smile reached the monster's lips.

"Oh I'm simply amusing myself while growing stronger. Soon I'll be able to finish my task with those ignorant children in Perdido Beach, starting with their wonderful little leader…" the Gaiaphage licked his lips, showing glinting ivory teeth. "And it's so much fun breaking you little by little, watching you lose grip on reality. You're growing stronger though, because I will need you. In the meantime, I'm having quite fun watching you cling to the pieces of sanity you have left. It's not strange that I'm enamoured with you. Not strange at all."

"You're enamoured with my suffering? With me? That's sick." _'You're a monster, and monster don't have feelings like so.'_

"Says the stark raving mad king still struggling to cope with reality delusions and the immense fear of me," the Gaiaphage reminded him with his double-edged voice.

"Stop…" Caine said, feeling weaker than he had in his whole life. "Just stop it…"

This turned the game. The Gaiaphage's smile faltered, and it was obvious one of his infamous (for Caine) mood swings turned his grin upside down, expression turning into an angry grimace.

"Even in your dreams, you're as weak as a newborn." The Gaiaphage glared at him, as if Caine's pretence brought him nothing but disgust. "It's even worse in real life, because in real life, you're nothing but a mess of tears and blood and sweat, soaked in your own _faecal._ You reek of _shit_, if I shall use such coarse language. You're a mess, son of Adam! Unworthy of my attention, unworthy of being in my pretence, unworthy of _saying my name_, filthy little king! I'm not even sure if I can call you such, in fact, you seem more like a weeping boy than someone dignified to serve as my follower!" A dramatic sigh followed. "But I'm merciless, aren't I? Haven't killed or done anything else to you yet."

A pause. Caine stood there gaping. He had nothing to say in his defence. He opened his mouth when he thought of something though, ready to tell this man-monster-_thing_ that the Gaiaphage was the person who had messed with his sanity in the first place but was interrupted.

"It was your own fault really. Coming there… What did you expect? Power? You saw you dear little friend Merwin after what I'd done to him, making him madder and all, if such thing is possible after your mad queen sawed off his arm. You brought this upon yourself."

"No," Caine whispered, horrified, not wanting to believe those words, but still doing so.

The Gaiaphage began stepping down from his throne, taking one step at the time down the massive staircase. The white branches started covering the throne again after he went down from it, and the mist began erupting again.

"Bow for me. Acknowledge me as your master, and perhaps you aren't so pathetic after all."

Caine wouldn't. _Couldn't. _Not after those words, because he could do nothing to defeat this creature before him! But he could stand still, and not submit like some puppet with too many strings to break lose from the feared puppet master. That was he did. Stood still - tried, but the shaking wouldn't stop - and said nothing, closing his eyes and everything.

"Will you not bow for me?" the Gaiaphage raised an eyebrow. "Fine. You might own this dream, but I own both you and all your followers, bound by the contract you made when stepping into my hiding place. So I'll let you know how I feel about that."

It came upon him; unexpected, gruesome and crazy pain, like as if he was ripped apart from the inside. Thousands of worms wiggled themselves back and forth inside him, trying to break free from underneath the skin, making him itch and scratch himself everywhere. He was hurting himself and he knew, but could not stop because "_THEY ARE FUCKING EVERYWHERE!_"

Screaming, who was screaming?

Screaming, was he screaming?

Then it went away. He was curled on whatever ground that was beneath him, taking ragged exhales while not daring to open his tightly-closed eyes. He knew he was lying in something wet and red and had no desire to confirm his theory on what it was.

"Have you learned now?" the man asked, circling him like a predator ready to attack its prey.

"YES!" Caine cried out through bitter tears, hiding his face in his arms. His voice was hoarse from screaming so much, and there was a drumming in his head. He could not decide if it caused by either his scared heart or his aching head.

_("O mother, what wounds are these...?")_

"Who's your master, child?" the Gaiaphage said with a thunderous voice, grabbing hold of Caine's hair, forcing his head up. Caine tried to defend himself, weakly kicking and scratching and screaming. This only resulted in more anger from the Gaiaphage's part, and with strong movements, he smacked Caine's head into the chess board floor, hard.

"Y-You…"

Blood streamed from the boy's forehead, but the monster did not care, simply continuing to smash his head into the floor till Caine didn't scream anymore when he interacted with hard marble. Full of anger and adrenaline, the Gaiaphage started screaming, "Say my name, you ignorant little shit!"

_("…what words are these?")_

"THE GAIAPHAGE!"

Finally pleased, the man let go and stood up, bursting imaginary dust of his clothes as if nothing violent had happened. Instead he began circling Caine's miserable form again, almost skipping around him. "And you swear to serve me until your death~?" he crooned.

"Yes, yes, yes," Caine said, still crying.

Minutes passed.

"I think I'll have them hang you," the Gaiaphage suddenly said. "Yes. Yes… that is a worthy death for you… Kings either get hung or their heads are chopped off on giant poles… But they don't have that sort of thing here, so we'll just have to go with you hanging in the gallows."

Caine didn't know what to say to that.

A moment of silence roamed between them, the Gaiaphage just standing with his arms on his back, observing Caine thoughtfully. Then he starting clapping, no longer looking at Caine but above him, obviously studying what hid in the mist.

"Well if it isn't our dear friends," he said cunningly, hips moving to each side rapidly like a child waiting to open a Christmas present, barely able to hide his excitement. "I've been expecting you. You're late."

Forms of two slowly walking people unrevealed, and Caine didn't need to see more than the black shadows to recognize the grand dress on _her_ and the gigantic hat on _him_.

They soon were near enough, standing way too close to each other than what was the norm for the two deranged comrades, but didn't seem to mind. "There are no such thing like being to late when Time stands _completely_ and _utterly_ still," Drake said, his voice's pitch rising and falling along with his intake of precious oxygen. He spoke while both inhaling and exhaling.

"Well well well - no need to be so sharp, after all, I've been waiting patiently with only this deranged king as company…" he pointed at Caine's form - who was still lying half-broken on the floor - with a disinterested look. Then his emerald eyes lit up yet again, orbs moving towards Drake.

"…my dearest Ace of Spades…"

Drake stood with his arms crossed, the arms on his turtleneck jumper too long and therefore tied up in knots, reminding Caine of a purple and blue straightjacket. His hat was drawn down into his face, hiding one eye underneath the hilt, the other half-buried underneath blonde hair. The oddest about him was the wild twinkling eyes and his Cheshire cat grin, Drake also sticking out his tongue at his master. He gave a half-hysterical giggle, but said nothing, just chewing on his fingers to stop himself.

"…and of course, the wonderful Mad Queen in _person_," the Gaiaphage reached out to kiss her hand, and with a queen's natural sophistication, she did not drew it away although looking a bit green. "It's so nice to meet you, finally~!" But when their hands were about to touch, the Gaiaphage's fingers went _through_ Diana's, unable to touch her, unable to kiss her, unable to hurt her in any way. It was as if one of them was a ghost, but Caine wasn't sure who of them it was.

"Hm?" The Gaiaphage looked amused, still smiling slyly. He rotated his hand quite a bit, studying it closely, "How interesting. It seem like our lack of _bonding_ in the real world makes his unable to interact in this situation. Glad we still can communicate though."

Drake was shoving his fingers into his mouth, almost biting them off to stop himself from laughing so hard. He fell on the floor and literally rolled around like a lunatic. His crimson hat still miraculously stayed on though.

One could almost feel the Gaiaphage frowning, turning to the hysterical invalid. "Well he sure is havin' fun~?"

"QUEENS AND KINGS AND ALICES!" Drake screamed in reply. He wasn't laughing anymore when a strong hand came crushing upon his throat, fingers locking around it like a strangling scarf, merely letting out choked sounds of resistance.

"Will you quiet down, slave? Know your place."

Then his hat fell off, and as if a spanner was removed from blocking his full brainpower (which wasn't that impressive in itself) and allowing him to be himself. "Y-Yes," Drake choked out, his grin having turned upside-down and becoming quite grim.

"Good." And as easy as that, the Gaiaphage stood up again with a wise smile, ignoring how Drake had troubles standing, now glaring after his master instead of acting like a mad hatter. His master noticed without turning, feeling the steely gaze upon his shoulders,

_'I'll fix that feisty attitude of yours later, little shark,' _he promised silently.

Was it a threat? Or a prophesy?

Only Destiny will know, but perhaps he will find it interesting to see what will happen. It all depends on his mood, since after all, he are neither cruel nor kind towards humanity, and will merely save or torment them if it proves amusing and interesting enough. Are that enough to call him evil?

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes…"

Caine had managed to get up now, and was a bit surprised when he found both Drake and Diana standing on one side of him, not looking at him, but still helping him in some bizarre sort, just by being present.

(Take a pack of cards.)

"Let me tell you mad friends a special secret of mine. There's only one card that makes a difference. Not the queen, not the king, and not even the ace, nevertheless if it is an Ace of Spades."

(There's a queen, there's a king, and there's an Ace of Spades.)

"There's only one card that can turn the whole game upside-down with a single appearance."

(They're all mighty, majestic, murderers and most of all - mad.)

All of a sudden, cards started falling from the roof, coming from nowhere in particular. All off them were Joker cards, the grinning face of the joker on each one. "Yes," he said, "The Joker. Unjust, unusual and most of all - unpredictable."

His smile almost reached above his eyes now, teeth much, much sharper than Drake's. "I could change the whole card game right now if I desired. Could drive Caine and Drake over the hilt, could make them bring the queen to me and make her as mad as the rest of you are, forcing all three of you to become my soldiers in a wonderland war…"

(Oh but they're already mad, you see.)

By the sound of his words, the skeletons starting transforming into something worse. Something much, much worse. They were becoming alive again - the moans of the dead filled the misty hall, echoing around, scaring the living daylight out of the three friends.

"You will join these, one day," the Gaiaphage mumbled with a cunning smile and pointed to the zombie-like folk rocking back and forth like drunks. "My own little toy soldiers."

Caine just stood there, gaping like a retarded fish as the utterly horrific realization dawned upon him. _'No,'_ his mind screamed, _'It can't be…'_ But as soon as those words had left his master's tongue, he'd known it.

He even recognised some of the children, because he'd been the one to sentence them to an early death. Some of them seemed rather eager to rip his body to pieces, only being hold back by the Gaiaphage's words.

"Yes," the Gaiaphage confirmed his worst fears. "When you die, you will end up here, as a puppet in _my_ mind. Imprisoned here with the rest of these low-lives… which I'm sure wants their revenge on you since they're oh so human, and humanity is like rats, and will blame whoever blameable. It'll make a good show. For now…"

With a flick of a finger, all of the zombies fell, their skin and meat blowing off and turning into ashes (already burning in mid air), leaving the familiar skeletons.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the Gaiaphage smiled madly, his voice mixing in with the sound of bones hitting marble. Caine felt like he was going to get sick, and went on all fours as he emptied his stomach all over the ground. Bones crushing, branches burning, and chilling laughter from various monsters (queens, aces and jokers) mixed in with the sound of the tea and coffee leaving Caine's body.

"Oh god," he said and started laughing with them. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…"

Tears were running down his face, and the throne room started falling apart, and Caine knew he was burning too, along with everything. Soon he also realized that he wasn't laughing no more, but crying. But his tears couldn't stop the endless, gruesome burning, flames swallowing him whole. He could see his own limbs becoming ashes, both smelling and feeling it.

He fell on his knees, sobbing, all while his _hair_ and _flesh_ and _bones_ was burning and _oh god I'm dying I'm dying I'm dying I'm dying I'm dying-_

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And Caine Soren awoke to white walls.

(In reality, this time)

**Screaming**.

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**A/N: ** The Joker card shit was a spur of the moment decision, but was watching The JokerBlogs on YouTube and felt rather inspired.

I'll admit this whole chapter was one big _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ reference. Plus the elements from the far more sinister video game _Alice in Wonderland: Madness Returns._ Those who have read HOWL will recognise the form of the first "MOTHER!" paragraph. There were a lot of other references in here too and I can't be bothered to list them all.

Also, RIP my boyfriend's dog, Niko. Lived for seven years, but because of bad bone structure (famous among Rottweilers) they had to put him down. Probably why the chapter was a little sad and crazy. I hope the rest lives longer :c


	4. Thundery Thursday

**Disclaimer: **Still broke, still not MG, and still not owning Gone™ :c

**Author's note/warnings:** This is the most graphic chapter yet. There's a lot of blood n gore, and the reason behind that is I decided to include the scene where Chunk gets vilely slaughtered by Caine. :D

Beta'd by **DreamCather96**. Love ya!

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**Mad Friends**

**Day IV :: Thundery Thursday **

**+Chocolate Chip Coffins & Artistic Merits+ **

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The screams of the mad king echoed through the marble halls, making every child cry and every teen curl up, both _species_ attempting to block out the terrible sound.

The mad friends all awoke at the exact same time, but dreams vanish from one's mind quicker than three seconds leaving only blurred memories left behind. (Expect for the king, of course, whose life was a living nightmare). Dreams are a product of emotions, so nevertheless if their dreams had been the exact same, Caine was the only one receiving a real reaction from what he'd witnessed and felt.

Drake just took a pillow over his face, unable to do anything, just trying to block out the horrific screaming from student room IV - Caine's room, to be exact.

Soon it stopped though, Caine realizing no one would come for him, ending with him curling up just like every other lonesome being does, when the company of oneself becomes too much. What was left was a mental mess of a fifteen-year-old boy, clutching his precious teddy bear, whimpering quietly.

The mad queen had listened, but ignored it. Now only silence met her ignorance, but deep inside, she listened intensely.

And with the night's overwhelming silence, Diana imagined it to be a thunderstorm outside.

"Quiet before the storm," she whispered, dreaming herself away to her own Wonderland. A very personal Wonderland without thoughts, without meaning; but it still held a lot of _meaning_ to her as she floated away in pristine white nothingness.

And they all slept.

In a way, death wasn't quite so different from sleeping. Funny that, since they'd be dead - burned up - in another universe. Inside Caine's twisted dreams, they'd be nothing but a pile of ashes.

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"_Ladris_!"

Oh what a wonderful morning.

Diana got up, ignored the intruder's perverted staring when he noticed she was only half-dressed, managing to stun him for a mere moment before he starting glaring again. "Get dressed."

Grabbing a way too big but very warm hoodie, she did as commanded, all while giving quite a pompous "Whatcha want?" As soon as the hoodie was on however, she managed to get her standard unimpressed-look™ back on.

Chunk stood in the door opening, having just slammed it open. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, the current screaming - having started up again - having kept him up all night. She sensed anger in the room's atmosphere which he'd just so rudely intruded, and was no fool. She knew that Chunk was the cause, because her current rage couldn't match his.

"You know what I want. Quiet _him_ down - he had another nightmare and even though he gave us two hours of sleeping just now, we're still in some serious need of sleep. I saw Merwin wander the halls muttering something about killing Soren, so you better do whatever it takes to calm him down."

(Drake wouldn't kill Caine no matter how much he desired him dead, because dogs need leaders. It was an instinct holding him there, beneath Caine's invisible throne, waiting until his king had grown old and useless before he saw his chance. Then he'd find a new master, a stronger one.

After all, a horse is nothing without a king.)

"He's not my problem all the time, Chunk. His screaming doesn't bother me; I'm too used to dealing with him."

"But none of us other folks are! Just 'cos you're his fuck-buddy doesn't mean we have go on our tip-toes not to bother 'im and keep you healthy and alive!" Familiar rage burned in those words, and Diana took a step backwards, feeling a bit threatened. Chunk was a lot bigger - fatter - than her and would definitely break her jaw if he wanted to. She would have none of that, and had to watch her future words.

"I know that," Diana said carefully, "But it doesn't mean he does. I can't stop the nightmares, neither can you. Just ignore it for the time being. He'll quiet down in a few hours." She tried to keep herself from giving away any weakness such as tire or anger, knowing it would just push him further that she cared for Caine's screaming but refused to cooperative and stop the hysteric sociopath.

"Oh yeah? Watch me do what you should have done hours ago. We're your soldiers - or rather, your king's soldiers, little defenceless queen, so you need to keep us happy. And we're not happy when we can't even get a few minutes of decent sleep without Caine acting like a motherfucking baby."

Storming off, Chunk disappeared again, heading towards Caine's room. Diana didn't pay as much attention to this little outburst as she should have. Instead she swallowed her pride down and walked to the main hall, ready to get herself a snack before she passed out from hunger. It had happened before, just not outside her room.

The screaming started again, but she didn't really bother with it this time. Chunk had said he was the one who would handle it, right?

Right.

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The silence in the main hall was overpowering. Most Coates kids were there, most sitting talking quietly in the corners. Others were completely alone, too engulfed in eating small pieces, thinking they'd enjoy it more and longer, too busy with it to actually speak to one another.

It smelled like urine and vomit, just like every other popular room in the goddamn hellhole. The only reason people met here was, well, to meet other people. Life in solitude was something everyone desired, but what they desired more was being able to take it. Humans are social creatures and the need of seeing another human being is too strong for most to take. So they had to meet there, even if it was in comfortable silence.

Drake had made some low-ranged brat take care of giving out food, making sure nobody stole anything or didn't receive food. Life was good, at least better than what it had been yesterday when they'd been on the hilt of starvation, gazing into the big black hole that was death, flying above them.

"Diana," the brat (wasn't his name Andrew?) greeted, not really fond of her, but having no real reason to hate her either. He was rather feminine and had no interest in Diana romantically, so she actually believed the rumour that he was homosexual. Not that it made any difference, but her brain just magically needed a reason of why he was immune to her beauty - needed to know that her most important weapon hadn't faded in strength. "What can I serve you today, my dearest? We have both cans with delicious tomato sauce and others with tasty pineapple pieces~!"

After seeing Drake eat like a motherfucking horse yesterday, her want for tomatoes in general had died abruptly. "I'll take the latter, thank you," she said dryly, actually liking the sophistication he used when speaking to most, even if she knew it was used to be ironic.

Passing several tables were the only looks she got was those of hatred or lust (sometimes both), she sat down with the biggest maniacs in the entire room. Unlike the others, he spoke little of silly things and merely gave her a raised eyebrow when she sat down. The smaller boy beside him didn't even look up from his food, too lost in his own pondering.

"Hello, Marv, Donald," she greeted.

"Diana," Marv, the big brute, said with a shit-eating grin. "Nice of ya to join little old me. What brings such a high ranked being as yourself to this table, beside me, my dearest _queen_?"

"Déjà vu," Diana muttered without realizing it. She shook her head, the tinted memories of the dream dwindling when she tried to think harder on it. Though she'd been called a queen in it, so much was clear. "The reason I sat down, was 'cos I wanted to."

"Fair enough," Marv chuckled darkly, poking in his food, before gormandizing it all down like a dog. Donald kept his manners while eating, taking small portions to lengthen the sensation.

Diana wasn't halfway through the food when a strong pair of fingers wrapped around her shoulder, burying themselves in sensitive flesh. "Ladris. Why didn't you stop the screaming this particular night?" an unfamiliar boy stood leant over here.

"Give the poor dame a rest," Marv said, massaging his temple in a try to minimize a building migraine. All this talking wasn't helping it, certainly!

"I won't," the brunette boy said harshly. "We all suffered 'cos of it. We have almost no food left too, so it's natural that we long after sleep to escape, if only in moments." So Drake hadn't told them about the new shipment of nourishment. _'Fair enough,'_ Diana decided, if they knew they'd go insane trying to look for it, probably eating each other in the process. "And why aren't we allowed to 'quiet him down'? Why are you so special?"

Marv left, muttering something about preferring eating in silence, and Donald followed without a word. Strange pair of friends, or comrades, if you could even call them that, but Diana didn't feel like they betrayed her. They merely minded their own business, which she admired them for. Most here were so eager on rumours they'd literally sell themselves in slavery just to giggle at another person's pain.

Once humans went _together_, they ate one another, in one way or another.

Now Drake had gotten enough with all the questions, especially when several children had gone all "Yeah!", "That's right!" and "Why can't we just end him?". This was a direct insult to him as well. If people found out that the reason behind Drake's distance to the mad king was… was… something as primitive and disgusting that he would not name the emotion… They'd slaughter his reputation.

He stood up from his lone table, and marched over to the boy, ripping his hand from Diana's shoulder and sending him four meters across hard marble floor.

"Shut the fuck up, you insect," Drake growled, "I didn't know you were so motherfucking stupid but since you _all_ seem to be, I need to explain something very quick to ya. Fuck sugar coating it, Caine has gone mad. There's no good words to try minimize the seriousness of the situation, 'cos Caine is downright _insane_. And 'cos of his goddamn crush on the witch over there," he pointed at Diana, "He seems to listen to her, for the most part."

(Three, two, one…)

"Well he doesn't seem that aggressive or dangerous to me-"

(Then shit hit the fan.)

It had all happened in a blur.

In a moment of madness, laughter spread all around the huge cafeteria, scaring the living daylight of those sitting there. There was a crash, followed by another one. The sounds neared, and kids huddled together when a limp body was sent across the room and into a wall, having been thrown through others.

The bloodied creature stood up, trembling, but managing to halt right forward, his brain shrieking at him to get away, to run, and to flee. It went slow, since the lower part of his foot missed. But he didn't get long before he was thrown across the room, crashing into another wall, all resistance dying with that sickening crush.

The giant doors slammed open, and there stood Caine with his face and clothes all soaked in blood. He looked like a serial killer from a gruesome splatter movie. "GAIAPHAGE!" he screamed hoarsely, and stepped forward, feet leaving bloody footprints. There was no smile on his face.

Most kids hurried for the exit, screaming, others paralysed by fear and shock.

Diana couldn't help but stare mindlessly at the gruesome sight of a mangled mess of a human lying there, whimpering (because it couldn't produce anything else). When recognition dawned upon her, she wasn't the one to utter his name.

"Chunk," Drake breathed, and didn't even flinch when Diana stood no more than a few centimetres away from him. Their arms touched, and in some odd way, it brought both the mad queen and the mad hatter **comfort**.

The called one managed to get his head up a little, reaching out to the two of them - because he was most certainly looking right at **them** - and managing to whisper one single word. "Help!"

(_'He looks like an animal that had been hit by a car and repeatedly driven over in a few days,' _Diana thought, disgusted beyond words. But she made no move to help the poor bugger.)

Then Caine arrived and with a flick of a hand, Chunk flew up so he crashed with the roof, only to be crashed into the floor again. It was inhuman and gruesome, the sounds of bones breaking and small sounds from Chunk. Soon Caine was just slamming him repeatedly into the floor, doing something with his fingers so Chunk's hand dashed against the sharp end of the table until it was hanging by the skin. Caine threw the hand across the room, and Diana followed it as it landed in someone's breakfast plate.

That realized a reaction.

Now there weren't a single person who didn't panic, some screaming and others just running mindlessly for the door. Everybody crashed in each other, falling and running over younger children, perhaps killing someone in the process. The youngest students, who'd always followed their older siblings around, hid underneath a table, all huddled together and holding for their ears.

"God," Diana whispered, grabbing Drake's shoulder, her long nails leaving pink marks on pale skin. "My god." '_Those screams in the morning wasn't Caine's. It was Chunk who screamed.'_

"There is no such thing," Drake whispered back, just as paralysed as her, and thus letting her hang into him even if she was his worst enemy (and best friend, in a way), "Not in the FAYZ. Not for bad people. Not for _us_."

Caine was still throwing Chunk into the air, now amusing himself with throwing several sharp items such as knives and forks at the poor boy. He was laughing, but it wasn't a happy laughter. It was as if he felt like he needed to laugh to double the torment for the other boy, and it seemed to work quite well.

Chunk had looked bad when he arrived in the cafeteria, but now he looked like no creature she had ever seen before, a victim of a monster. It also hit her that Chunk had been tortured in Caine's room as well.

Chunk smiled, his hand stretching out, and he was most certainly _looking _at Drake, yes, yes, yes, he was and Drake knew but there was nothing he could do, not even when… not even when…

"Mom?" came the begging, the reason for the sweet smile, the innocence in that watery - a blood and saltwater mix - gaze. "Mom, is that you?" The emotions in those hoarse and shallow whispers made a cold shiver run down Drake's spine, and he colder than he'd done in his entire life. There it was, in all its gruesomeness; humanity, what he both feared and desired.

Drake saw the light shining in his voice, in that smile, making his death ironic and insane. Chunk couldn't be more than fourteen, and this was how he'd die, lying on the floor on a school cafeteria. Murdered by a mad king with reality delusions.

Drake saw the light died out with that single motion, as if Caine had done nothing but blown out a candle.

And Caine didn't look more shocked than if he'd blown out a candle.

Chunk died there and then, surrounded by nothing but white marble, red blood (lying there in his own body parts) and black _death_, sucking him into a black hole on the sky of life.

"GAIAPHAGE!" Caine shrieked, and Diana realized he was in his five-year-old state. A rather murderous five-year-old state, but perhaps it was just a side of him (it?) that Diana had never seen.

"GAIAPHAGE!" It continued like that, that very word screamed too often for anyone's liking, even if most had no idea what the word's meaning was.

Then there was silence.

Crushing and intense silence.

Caine tilted his head to the side, not understanding anything, it seemed. He started chewing on his thumb like he did every time he was distress, and if anyone had looked closer, they'd see that the skin there was red and sore. Caine was often distressed indeed.

And as ripped-off arm that had stuck to the wall fell, Drake had already made up his mind.

(Fear wasn't respect.)

He also saw Diana, staring at the miserable-looking corpse on the ground, eyes wide. In another time, he'd felt glorious after seeing her so vulnerable, so scared, so delightfully _touchable_, but there was no proper words for the situation, no mockery, no pride.

It could have been Drake lying there, unable to defend himself again a boy with invisible arms that could throw you through air without raising an eyebrow. No matter how much he tried to deny it, this scared him too.

Paint, who'd tried to hide underneath the table, held for his mouth, his little breakfast from yesterday wanting to say hello to daylight, and ran into the nearest toilet. His fanatic footsteps echoed through the room.

Caine, Diana and Drake stood alone, other people like shadows in their pretence, as if blurred out in comparison to the three lunatics. The smell of blood and gut laid heavily in the air, but no one wanted to come near the dissected boy on the ground, underneath their feet, unimportant; not worth looking at.

Caine let his empty gaze fly from one to another, repeating the motion for quite some time. Nobody moved, like it would break the chilling ice holding them from destroying each other.

"Something has changed, has it not?"

Yes.

It was in the air; just as present as the smell of gore.

Something had changed.

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_"For now we stand alone_

_The world is lost and blown_

_And we are flesh and blood disintegrate_

_With no more to hate"_

-"The Beginning is the End is the Beginning"; Smashing Pumpkins

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_Remember the magic words? _

_"Cards can be architecture, placed in such a way that they're downright beautiful. But when cards fall, they scatter about, creating nothing but a mess of black and red and white." _

_Black is death, red is blood, and white is emptiness. That's what their lives are filled with._

_Scatter the cards about, mad king._

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.

It stunk like death.

Both Diana and Drake had to look away, Diana because of the foul sight, and Drake because of the foul smell. He'd seen worse movie scenes than it, but the smell was something he hadn't experienced in a long while, not since the coyote massacre anyway.

Diana and Drake were in Caine's room at the moment.

They weren't particularly scared of blood and gore, but this was someone Diana and Drake had known. Chunk, the fat kid who'd run around in school since sixth grade with a big stupid grin on his face, always talking about the newest movies and other shit. He was dumb as fuck and Diana was positive that she disliked him greatly even after his death, but still, standing in a room covered in the blood of a person you've spent several years with… It was a bit hard to act normal, to say at least.

Penny fainted.

But no one paid much attention to her, so it was all good.

Drake finally breathed normally, managing to adjust to the gruesome smell and bent down, studying the crimson material on the floor, walls, and everywhere else really. "He must have held him here for quite some time. This ain't just an hour's work, if you get what I'm saying."

"Yeah, I can see that, Merwin. But y'know what other observations I see? Footprints."

"I was just about to say that, Ladris, but you came before me." Drake stood up, pointing to several places at the room. "He was tied up with those wrinkled-in bloodied sheets, but by the looks of it, escaped here… and fell over there… then made a run for it and Caine blew of his foot…"

Penny, who'd woken up again, saw the chopped-off foot in the corner of the room, and fainted again.

"Useless piece of thrash," Drake muttered, and thereafter continued on his explanation. "Chunk must've thrown something at him… There's another fall, you see, there… and a teddy bear… what the fuck…" He frowned, looked at Diana, who only rolled her eyes. "So Chunk threw a teddy bear at Caine to make him stop?"

Diana sighed, "Irony is a strange thing, is it not? Always in the maddest of scenes…"

Drake didn't answer, instead stretched his arms outwards, yawning. "And even when he's massacring innocents, he's still acting like he's five. But whatever, I'm pretty sure we're done here, finding the causes and all. Caine was the murderer and it's not a goddamn thing I, or you, can do about it." No 'we' - of course not. Diana should have known that even their names mentioned in the same sentence pissed him off.

Some kid had just stuck his head into the room and seen although Drake and Diana had forbidden it. He took one look, turned a little green, and ran for the nearest bathroom.

Quiet, Drake frowned. "Whatcha wanted?"

The ones that had accompanied him stood frozen for a moment or two before a girl spoke, timid. "We wanted to know where… where the l-leader is."

"What to you mean 'where'?" Diana asked, turning to them and crossing her arms. "I thought you said he was passed-out near the big stairs in the main hall."

"Well he was at first, but since people were… a tad afraid to approach him and stuff, we just let him lie there. And then… then he wasn't there anymore a few minutes after. We weren't gone for long I swear! And we thought he was with you guys!"

Both the queen and the horse were stunned for a moment. Drake's grey blueish eyes looked like they'd pop right out of his head. "You let that crazy asshole alone?"

"Only for a few minutes!" the trembling blonde retorted.

Diana, who hadn't heard anything after the info about Caine's disappearing was opening and closing her mouth repeatedly. Quietly, she spoke, "We don't know where he is… Oh god… I think I know where he is…" She ran past the kids, pushing them aside without offering an apology of any kind, just razed down the hallways.

"Hey! What's with the hurry?" a brunette asked.

"She's afraid that she'll lose powers now that her fuck-buddy's gone," one of the boys explained, smiling in triumph. He was a fat ugly dipshit, and Drake wanted nothing but punch him in the nose. Not because he had insulted Diana (people did that all the time, and it amused him), but only because he was _so _dumb.

"That's not the reason, dipshit," Drake said before anyone could agree.

"She's the one that has to clean up the king's growing mess. And if he by any chance slaughters her like he did with the others… Well, let's just say the pile will increase until Coates is nothing but filled of shit."

"What sort?" a scared girl choose to ask.

"The massacred-bodies-kind of shit," Drake told them with a hiss, and they could imagine deadly liquid falling from his super sharp teeth. He reminded them of a Cobra. "His body count is already increasing, and I'd recommend hiding and hope that our dearest queen will do what needs to be done, and save your sorry asses in the process. Why? 'Cos she's the only one mad enough to do so."

"What's so dangerous about the mad king, then?" the selfish one asked.

"Oh, him? Well, he's the one that did _this_, for once."

And with almost no power at all, Drake pushed the shocked boy into the masses of blood. The splash, the gasp, and the screaming that followed brought him nothing but pleasure.

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"Safe."

Tiny steely fingers reached out for his wrist, locking around them at first, before doing something more drastic. They started clawing him, those fingers, nails digging for treasures, for blood and pain.

"Safe."

But he let them, let them hurt him, let them draw blood. Anything to make the screaming in his head go away completely. It took quite a while before he understood that he was the one hurting himself, and he stopped, if only for a moment.

"Safe."

Caine hid underneath the bed sheets as the door slammed open, fearful that it was another monster that had come for him. All he could see was blood and guts, covering him, but he was unaware if it was his own blood or not. It not being his scared him senseless - how could he have done something so horrible and have no memory of it?

"S-"

"No," a figure in the door cut him off. It stood high and mighty, and just when Caine were about to extend his hands and throw her across the bedchamber, the figure stepped out from the shadows.

"Caine."

"D-Diana!" he screamed her name with ultimate joy, eyes going wide and ecstatic. Almost jumping straight out of bed, he rushed towards her, ignoring how he'd just thought about exploding her head so brains had been scattered all across the room.

The tightness of the hug reminded her like a child's method of showing that he was scared. He clung to her, like if she was his only hope for salvation - for sanity too, perhaps. "Never ever leave me again," he commanded in a terrified voice, but still, it was a command.

"I won't," was all she said.

The child in front of her was a devil, truly, appearing so innocent and naïve when all it took for him to break someone's arm into a thousand pieces was a flick of a finger. He could kill her, could slaughter her without mercy. Still she held him, tightly.

"Thank you," was all he said. "But still there is one thing I… wonder about…"

He spoke in whispers, growing more and more demonic for each word uttered. First she was unable to hear him, but then he turned to her, and smiled sickly. He held his hands up to show the red splattered all across them.

_"O mother, whose blood is this?"_

It didn't take long for her answer to slip past her lips. "It's your own." That wasn't lying, she just chose not to tell the complete truth - there were other owners of the blood than just himself. But his next reply would tell her if he recalled anything about his slaughter.

"Oh really? Is it mine?" he frowned in surprise, but soon his features smothered out, transforming it into a look of pure boredom. "I see."

"Yeah," she said, all quiet, "You must've had another nightmare."

"I understand. That must be it, then," he decided. He stared hard at the floor, twirling his thumbs together.

The mad queen stepped towards him, but still a little sceptic to come near him at first, the mental image of him tearing Chunk apart still fresh in her mind. She struggled to act normal around him after seeing with her own eyes what he could do, although she'd possessed the knowledge about it for a long time. It was something else entirely, to actually be in the same room as a professional serial killer as he did his art, than to read about it in an old book.

"Let's get you some clothes," she said, laying a steady hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, eyes meeting hers, and then out of a sudden he embraced her. His grip was weak and tired, although his hands grabbed for something to hold onto. "Thank you," he muttered, "Thank you so much." What he was thanking her for would never be known, and she felt better not asking. "Please don't ever leave me, Diana. Please don't."

"I won't," she whispered, and this time it felt nothing like a lie.

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**A/N:** Marv and Donald are actually two sick, sick Human Crew OCs in my and **DreamCather96**'s epic (and private) RP. She's a marvellous RPer and a good friend (: Kudos to her~!

"When humans comes together… they'll eat each other" is originally an idea from the Monster quote "Oh but I simply added a bit of fuel to the hate that is created when people come together", and it was later that my Joker poster reminded me it was a quote of his too.


	5. Friable Friday

**Disclaimer: **"Pfft" is a good enough answer.

**A/N:** Limbo; n.

1. (Christian Religious Writings / Theology) (often capital) Christianity the supposed abode of infants dying without baptism and the just who died before Christ  
>2. an imaginary place for lost, forgotten, or unwanted persons or things<br>3. an unknown intermediate place or condition between two extremes in limbo  
>4. a prison or confinement<br>[from Medieval Latin in limbo on the border (of hell)]

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**Mad Friends**

**Day V :: Friable Friday **

**+Limbo Lullaby+**

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"Remind me why we're doing this thing again, fruitcake?" a kid asked, trying to keep his head as far away as possible from the material he was currently scrubbing at. But he had no way of closing his nostrils from inhaling the sickening smell and had to resist the urge to vomit, again.

"I already gave you a good 'nuff explanation, Abel," the more feminine boy beside him complained. He was too used to the stupid nickname to correct it. Better than 'queer' or 'faggot', at least. "Merwin told us to do this shit. There ya go." Then he muttered "Goddamn prick" underneath his breath, too quiet for anyone but himself to hear.

"Oh." Abel fell silent for a moment, thinking so hard it hurt, which wasn't really hard at all. He didn't manage to hold back the mocking question, taking any opportunity to hit him where it hurt. It made him feel better about himself. "Is it because you're into guys?"

"No," the one nicknamed fruitcake hissed, offended, "Merwin doesn't give a shit about that. It's all the same to him, sexual orientation, skin colour, opinions, religion-"

"Don't talk such about the Lord," Abel said and held up the gold cross he always wore around his neck. "There are many things I tolerate when it comes to you, like your… _interests_…but never say such filth against Christianity." He kissed the cross for good measure. "Even Merwin will get judged by the almighty God. And if he doesn't care, he is no human created by our God."

He took a brief pause, panting a bit, but his black-and-white-view nailed into his head, impossible to get out. "He must be some kind of demon spawn, like my father told me about. Would you like to hear the story? Okay it all began with-"

"Merwin is insane," the other replied, serious, not explaining that Abel had gotten it all wrong. Some people are as thick as the English dictionary, and he was one of them. Not ignorant, but innocent. "However, he's still very human."

"That's nonsense," Abel replied, snorting.

"He has a beating heart. Don't believe me? Well remember that science project we had in seventh grade? Merwin did have a heart then, we checked his pulse and all."

"Tch, I'm still not c-convinced." There was a shallow tremble in the midst of the sentence, and when he looked to see what had caused it, he saw Abel's fingers clutching the cross so tightly they looked like porcelain. Religion really helped people in bringing shallow but definite answers to unanswerable questions, questions all kids in the FAYZ wondered about. Not that Abel became a better person, but it was an easy way to cope. "Not after what he did to those kindergarten children. I'm here 'cos… I have to, and the mad king would kill me if I defied him."

"It's only logical," the fruitcake muttered hatefully, having lost all his faith when seeing his crush disembodied some time ago. "And speaking of logic, why am I the one cleaning this motherfucker's brains out from the carpet? Your turn." Then, while switching, he said in a much milder tone, "Like Merwin said, Chunk's body ain't gonna disappear by itself, will it now?"

"What a demon he is, joking about death," Abel muttered.

"There's one in us all, and someone has to see the irony in all this madness. Still, we're humans. In fact, Merwin is a perfect example of humanity. Cruel, ruthless, heartless - without our teachings about morals, would we be any different? He's this world's literally best and worst human."

Religion scoffs, and Science sighs, but it has no impact on this universe.

None of them has some brilliant theory of why they shouldn't be scraping the remains of Chunk's bloody corpse from the floor in the abandoned cafeteria.

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_"A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything."_

-Friedrich Nietzsche

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A crisis council is collected, starring all the remaining students at Coates academy - where they previously had learned maths and literature, and were now learning about survival of the fittest. And with no pencils or erasers, no they learned the hard way; the physical fist-to-the-face method of teaching one another.

There was a fire on each side of the stairs that lead to the second floor. They were used to the boring speeches the principal held in the start of each new semester, thus not linked to something good. But still the fires burnt in their giant marble containers, orange flames dancing with the yellow ones.

"Quiet in the hall!" someone shouted, and after a few more joining the shushing, everybody finally fell silent.

It was odd, and it scared some enough to cough, sneeze or clear their throats - anything to escape the lack of sounds reminding them of eternal solitude.

"We're here today to discuss a very important matter," Drake hissed from his way up on the stairs, having made sure no children sat in it as he started walking down. Except of Diana of course, she was her own master. "I'm sure you're all familiar with what has been nicknamed 'the dining hall incident'… Thing is, we need to know what to do with our dearest mad king and now mad killer, too."

The bitter chuckles that escaped him blended in with the whispers of uncertain students.

"Kill him!" someone shouted, rewarded with yet another period of silence.

"'Kill him'?" Diana mimicked in a childish voice, tone thunderous, "Have you gone crazy? Who's gonna try, eh? Chunk tried to go near him to kindly tell him to quiet down last night," this was a lie but she needed to make a point, and she did, since several pairs of eyes eased with nothing but primitive fear, "and now his corpse is rotting in the dining hall. If you want, you can go talk to him right now. I could fetch him for you, if you want, tell him you have some comments about his perfect leadership-"

"No please don't!"

Diana smiled a smile of pure satisfaction. "That's what I thought."

Even Drake gave some malevolent sniggers from his laid-back position in some of the highest stair steps. "Heh, now when the mad queen's done, let's get back to business. We can't let Caine loose anymore, but we can't hold him back either-"

"You do it!" a girl no more than seven shouted, scowling.

In less than seconds, his amusement went over to animalistic anger, and he'd slid down the staircase. "So you think I'm a monster, huh?" She tried escaping his evil by forcing herself backwards into the swarm of terrified birds, who merely scattered about when Drake neared. He'd already grabbed her shoulders before she managed to choke out a scream, getting a harsh slap (or more like fist to the face) in response.

"Too bad you're right, you worthless piece of shit. You think I have any desire to speak to that lunatic? I don't want to lose my head! If it's so fucking easy, you do it! Be my guest!"

She was crying now, clutching her pink toy bunny, her form seeming even tinier than before, being more than three heads lower than the villain before her.

In a moment of pure, sadistic bliss, he ripped the last memory she had of her parents away from her. She thrashed helplessly against him, but he only held a hand on her head to stop her from taking back the precious bunny.

"What to do, what to do…" Drake wondered out loud, enjoying the moment.

Then he caught sight of the flames.

They were shining brightly, still dancing, alluring him closer.

She'd seen her opportunity when he started walking towards them in a trance, and jumped out to grab her bunny. But he was faster, and just as the tips of her fingers touched it, he'd already thrown it into the fire. It started burning at once, flames swallowing it; pink blending into orange and red and black and grey and destruction.

It melted, the _krrrr_-sound accompanying the mindless sobbing of the girl.

Is this what all their emotions and dreams and hopes for salvation were?

When reduced to what the forms were in the real life, what was left?

Nothing but... _tears_ and _ashes_?

Even Diana felt remotely sick at the moment, but after having witnessed so many horrors, it soon passed. Because of this, she managed to think clear and understood Drake had done it for other reasons than just revenge for the little girl's comment. He hated being seen down at, hated always having a master, never acknowledging that he _needed_ one to survive. Thus all the anger had grown inside him, tearing at his insides, finally escaping when the glass ran over and he clicked.

For now, Drake was too obsessed with the destruction of a toy bunny, and she let him have his fun. In more ways than one, he reminded her a bit of Caine's current state. Being a sadist and all, he took great joy of bringing pain to others, and had no adult way of showing happiness. So he grinned crazily and sniggered, the muscle underneath his left eye twitching slightly.

"We're moving him to the janitor's room," she said simply, and all heads turned to her - anything to take their eyes off the crying girl. "Does that please the court?"

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"Why are we changing rooms, Diana?" Caine asked, looking tired. She didn't know what kind of mood he was in, but whatever new persona he'd taken the form of, he was downright exhausted. It would probably reduce the number of magic tricks he would do when he felt like it.

"There are multiple reasons. Since you left for a couple of hours, someone must've gone into your room and poked a giant hole in the wall. And if you sleep there you'll catch a cold."

"Yeah, I will, I guess. But I don't ever recall leaving," Caine said, dejected, "To be frank, I don't remember anything at all. Maybe if you'll let me see the room I'll-"

"No Caine. Walking around in your nightwear yesterday made your voice sound all hoarse, and you'll get even worse if you go in there."

"But-"

"Trust me."

Caine stared at her for a moment. "'Kay," he finally said, sighing like as if he was disappointed in her, before he looked up again. "By the way, where's Teddy? I haven't seen him after I awoke in your bed this morning." He looked all nonchalant about it, but she could feel a cold shiver working its way up her spine.

_'Fuck.'_ There were no other words to explain the situation. Hurrying, she vanished into the room, being sure to send him a "Don't move!" look. Rushing through his belongs - most of which were covered in blood - she found the teddy bear, but was too quick to notice the stain on the backside.

Out of a sudden she saw Drake enter the room, almost kicking Caine out from his path (or 'gently shoving him out of the way with his foot' in Drake's opinion - the fucker hadn't felt no real kick, even if he laid face-down on the floor). "Whatcha doing, Ladris?"

"Shut up and help me, Merwin," she said and threw the teddy bear at him, already rushing towards the cupboard in search for clean clothes. Luckily only the clothes on top where stained, and she managed to throw some of the clean ones at Drake, leaving him to carry all of it. This reminded her of the phrase 'women shop, men carry the bags', and made her smirk.

He didn't let go of them though, luckily enough. Instead he just gave her a murderous look as they hurried out, not allowing Caine to see into the room bathing in blood. She'd heard kids refer to it as 'the mad king's swimming pool of death'.

When they came to the door, Drake gave Diana the teddy bear, looking grimmer than ever. It was so degrading, doing such a _kind_ task, even if she was the only one watching. He gave her a "if you tell anyone about this I'll find something sharp and shove it down your throat" look. How he managed to get this message through with just a mere look was beyond her, but she didn't comment on it.

Then Diana walked out, Drake following shortly after.

"Diana…" There was something in Caine's voice… something familiar, something dangerous, something seeping into his words like poison. "Why…" Caine paused, and if he'd been a wolf, his furry grey ears would have gone backwards in aggression, "Why is Teddy all red?"

Even Drake could feel the poisonous rage lurking into the atmosphere. One wrong word he'd be dead, so he wisely stayed quiet. This all depended upon Diana's answer, it seemed.

It all happened in slow motion.

Things all around Caine, such as lamps, pillows, or other moveable objects started floating in the air, slowly. They were all ready to lunch at any given second, even if Caine didn't seem aware of it. And this was all with just one hand.

"Teddy told me he wanted spaghetti and meatballs for dinner while you were asleep. He just got a little too eager while eating, that's all."

It was as if the thundercloud previously hanging over his head and expression had been in less than a second been replaced with rainbows and kittens and other sugary happy shit.

"I see! So Teddy was hungry, eh?" Caine grinned so all his perfect teeth showed, turning against the toy animal, "Next time, Teddy, wait till I'm asleep! I bet you've eaten all the spaghetti and such since you're so covered in red, I mean! And next time, you mustn't go wander off at your own either, you might get hurt…" he continued talking to it, paying no attention to those around him.

Both Drake and Diana breathed out at the same time, knowing that the childlike king was like an atom bomb - he could explode any moment now, if they acted or said anything wrong.

Diana attempted to look unaffected by Caine's drastic mood changes, but didn't manage it completely, instead focusing on getting the needed from the new room where he'd hidden. Taking a few pillows and sheets from the bed (she was sure the owner wouldn't mind, even if he or she was alive - if not, then he or she could discuss it with Caine himself), Diana ransacked the bedchamber for needed things.

Drake stood in the door way as a guard, his tentacle arm smacking against the door frame in annoyance.

But she wasn't there to see how he pulled a strand of golden hair up from his beloved toy animal, how he studied it… The understanding that dawned upon him, darkening those brown pools of death and hate and anger and murder and gruesomeness and-

"Caine? You coming?"

"Of course~!" the child sang, running after Diana, all thoughts of slaughter gone from his mind. Of course, the fire in his orbs were still smouldering, a distant reminder that certain things on his mind weren't _quite_ so noble.

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The janitor's room was one of the cleanest places in Coates.

Yes, it had a weird stink to it and there were rotten planks near the roof that would collapse if no one did something, but still, it was rather clean. It even had a private bathroom, a small room that was barely 1,5 meters in width with a toilet and sink almost stored on top of each other. There was a shower head in a corner and a three centimetres high wall to keep the water in a certain area. The room itself wasn't that big either, having a semi-large bed that took up most of the space. It also had a wooden desk, a puke-green bookshelf and a small wardrobe pressed so hard into a corner that the planks had given in. Luckily it wasn't extremely cold on Californian nights, and the fresh air that flew in because of the holes and rotten planks, it wouldn't cause him to get ill even if he kicked off his covers. God she felt like a mother. Other than that it was a big window that had view of a hill going downwards, being several meters deep.

She'd have to secure that later if she didn't want Caine's curiosity get to him and result in him crawling out and breaking his neck. Dealing with a demented four-year-old was bad enough, but dealing with a crippling would be worse.

"Tis' not that nice," Caine said, right after she'd answered his thousand questions. She couldn't decide if it was good or bad that he remembered nothing of the whole Chunk accident.

"You didn't complain yesterday," Diana replied, leaning against the wall, expressionless, studying her nails. This wasn't the Caine she dealt easiest with; it was an older, more mischievous type._ 'Great,'_ she thought sarcastically, _'I was so looking forward to another game of wits and sarcasm. I think I recall this one, and what I recall isn't pleasant at all…'_

"You really had no other place to store me?"

"I didn't make the decision. The rest did."

"Well where are we?" he hissed, standing up as tall as he was, no longer huddled-over and vulnerable. It was strange, and she took several steps backwards when he neared.

"I already answered that," she replied, trying to hide her obvious annoyance, "We're in the janitor room. It's the only place they'd allow you to be."

"I'll show them what they'll get for messing with me…" Caine trailed off, looking ready to kill but also looking quite helpless. He glared daggers at Diana and started pacing back and forth in the room, restless and annoyed. "I'm not even allowed to leave this room, am I?"

"I just said that too. You're stuck here," Diana said, having no intentions of telling him lies. "It's been decided that you'll stay here..."_ '…when you're in a dangerous mood, such as now,'_ she continued in her head.

"There's nothing to do!" Oh my, the baby had grown and come into the spite period.

"And what would you do if you could escape then, Soren?" she said coldly, having no desire to speak with this rude megalomaniac. He reminded her too much of the Caine she hadn't seen in weeks. It was scary how he resembled the completely mad part of Fearless Leader, and that part only.

"I'd lead…" Dear god. "I'd lead an army to crush my brother into nothing, and bring those faithful townie servants down with him. Laying every child in chains, taming the freaks and forming a mindless group of invalids ready to do whatever I please - including starving themselves for the greater good - and that's my holy plan." Ideas rushed around in his head now that thoughts of compassion and friendliness had been forgotten. The tyrant he kept mostly hidden could run freely now, and had taken over his whole body instead of only a part of his brain. This meant that it had infected his heart, pouring tar all over it, creating a thick wall around it so that Caine had no tiny bit of moral anymore.

"I see."

Caine's head turned to her, staring sharply at her. "That's all you have in reply? A simple 'I see'. Tch, as if you could ever understand my limitless ambitions." He marched over to her, ignoring how she tried to keep a distance, soon pushing her into the wall. "You're nothing but a servant. How could you possibly understand me? Still…" something soft came over him. "Still I cannot kill you, not now, not ever." Holding up and empty hand, he closed it slowly, "I imagine our relationship to be made out of sand. No matter how hard I squeeze, the grains keeps spilling out of my hand, leaving it emptier than before. Can't kill, can't harm, nor can I make something more delicate, either."

His fists interacted with the wall behind her. "Why Diana, why won't you be with me?" Why won't the mad queen take her place beside the mad king? Why can't she see that their existences are chained together, forcing them together, making his heart pound in his chest whenever she hints acceptance towards this fact, only to rip it in pieces the next second?'"What's the point of being such a fucking prude?"

"Don't, Caine."

"I'll show you…"

"Caine, _don't_."

He wasn't listening anymore.

Bending forward, his mouth forced itself upon hers. He also forced her head to lean to the side, using raw willpower, pressing his lips to hers so hard it hurt. Eyes closed in concentration and in ignorant bliss of her lack of enjoyment, he sucked lightly on her bottom lip. She refused to be cooperative, but he didn't give up, teasing and almost mocking her for the lack of response.

She made no move to stop this… this horrible dry beautiful thing he'd forced upon her. She denied that it resembled a kiss. Because how could a kiss hurt so much yet be so wonderful?

Caine's eyelids opened slowly, taking time in locking them on hers, holding her captive with his mind. Without any effort at all, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, noticing how she made no sounds. Taking this as positive feedback (he wasn't so horrendous that she'd bitten him), he'd left him vulnerable. His fists had uncurled and they were reaching for her. Then she parted them with a quick movement, looking as grim as ever.

"_Don't_," was all she said, chocolate eyes warning him.

When he tried to touch her, she smacked his hand away immediately. He managed to yank it away just in time, but their hands touched regardless. "You're truly… indestructible, aren't you?" he licked his lips, then letting his wet tongue run up the finger that had graced hers, all with a smirk. "Truly a queen. No servant of mine. Pity, that. Still…"

She dried away his lovestink from her reddened lips, still feeling how he invaded her personal bubble. He smelled like tears and sweat and gloominess. His taste, however, was something else entirely. Noticing the evil glint in his gaze, she smirked herself,_ 'You're just like Satan, or rather, Lucifer, aren't you? Banished from the light, driven into darkness because of your unwillingness to stay loyal against the good left in the FAYZ. A devil. A demon. My person demon. Mine.'_

Possession. The desire to own, to lead, just a want to kill really, only toned down a few notches. They both wanted to own one another, be in complete control, but both refused to bow for the other, and thus they were stuck in their cold romance.

"No servant of yours," she confirmed, and there was no more minutes left for them to chat. He'd come too close, and she'd punched him. Long nails had been broken when she'd slapped him across the left cheek, and she was breathing heavily, watching him fall backwards down onto the floor. His head meet the side of the bed with a painful-sounding sound. It took several moments before he understood what had happened, and a migraine began to make itself known. Caine groaned from his place on the floor, and if looks could kill, Diana would've been nothing but a pile of ashes by now.

"Fuckin' bi-" and again she'd silenced him, this time by quieting him with another hard non-kiss. Knees bent on each side of his slim form, she could feel him growing hot underneath her care. **True** kings cannot be overpowered by foes, no matter how powerful, rather dying than submitting, but women on the other hand…_ 'Such dangerous yet pleasantly deceiving creatures,'_ he finished in his head, pressing his lips to hers with the exact same amount of spite and hatred and frustration and love and fright and all the others emotions racing through ones head when one is in a situation one cannot understand.

It continued, the war, the war of tongues and lips and spit and teeth. It raged on forever, in an eternity, or for an awfully long time at least. Both his arms were stretched out on his sides, allowing his queen to dominate and to show exactly how much of a servant she was.

Then they parted, Caine smirking and Diana panting.

Fuck. She'd let herself go. But Caine had never seen a prettier angel, and in a moment of his teenage hormones going insane, he again forgot how risky mingling with a woman (or someone of the female sex) could be. Therefore he had no time to defend himself when she'd grabbed his hair and smashed his skull into the floor. "Goodbye, lover boy," she said hotly, while he closed his eyes.

_'I'm glad.'_

Ignoring the odd look in his eyes while he faded away, she didn't see his lips forming those two words. Fading like a flower for winter's cold, going back underneath the ground only to awake from its sleep in another form. Had Caine not been such a bestial young man, he would've resembled a flower. It would not happen again, she swore. But thing was, she'd convinced him that she was on the exact same level as him and he would not make the mistake to underestimate her ever again. But, it still ached, how she'd let herself go. Was a human for a moment - and only for a moment - where she'd let herself be allured by his ever-growing desire.

She'd shut him up, at least.

Deep within she felt as if she'd just been molested, though, by one of Caine's personalities. She hoped this one never appeared again - they all appeared to have separate memories, thank god for that.

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_"My favourite inside source_

_I'll kiss your open sores_

_I appreciate your concern_

_You're gonna stink and burn"_

"Rape Me"; Nirvana

.

.

"My head hurts."

"You fell out of bed."

"'Dun remember fallin', I woke up in m'bed. Didn't have any bad dreams either…" Caine swallowed some of the anti-headache pills, Diana having been careful with her medicine storage in case something major happened to either of them.

"It's rare you do. And I was the one putting you back to bed." It became harder and harder to convince him, as if he was growing more normal again. She didn't know what she felt about that - it had been so long since she'd talked to the Caine hiding on the inside. Also, for some stupid reason she kept on thinking that he would return some day. She had no evidence of this, however, and when she looked at Caine rocking back and forth in his bed... It seemed less possible, certainly, but she couldn't convince her heart about it.

"Can you tell me a fairytale, Diana?"

"I don't know any good ones."

"Oh." He fell quiet for a moment, and she just sat there, knowing better than to leave. There was nothing else to do, after all, and she felt the need to lay low for a couple of days before everyone could get over the shocking new death.

"Can you sing me a lullaby?"

"…" she looked at him for a long moment. "No, I'm not good at that either."

"Oh." Caine shifted, hating the awkward silence. Diana found it comfortable, but in Caine's visions there were ebony monsters creeping up underneath the roof so he inched closer, trying to keep life in a conversation.

Then the door slammed open.

Caine started screaming, only seeing a monster in the door, resulting in him lying curled up underneath the covers, kicking for his life. "What the-" it came from the door, but Diana shooed the stranger - the monster - that had just entered, and started unwrapping the bed sheet mummy.

"Calm down," she muttered to the hysteric four-bar, "it's nothing, it's just an idiot; it's no monster that's here to kill you, please stop fighting so goddamn hard!" Then all the kicking and bitching stopped, Caine just staring blankly up at the roof, paralyzed, although there was no fear or emotion of any sort on his blank face.

Diana stood up. "Goddamn it Merwin, why do you always have to be such a giant pain in the ass?"

Drake didn't take kindly to that insult. "Fuck you, witch," he shot back, "I was trying to be civil and not knock down the door but it seems like you have no appreciation for my wasted efforts!"

"Civil, you? Don't make me laugh," Diana said coldly. "I wasn't intending to," he hissed from in-between gritted teeth. His gums were turning white because of it, ivory shark teeth blinking effortlessly in the moonlight streaming through a window.

"I came here to say that-"

"Where's Teddy?" Caine cut him off, still immoveable.

"Don't interrupt me like that while I'm speaking, you lunatic," Drake shot back, the last part said before he'd remembered who he was dealing with. Diana didn't think so much over since she was used to seeing them bickering. "Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I…"

"You took him didn't you?" Now Caine had stood up, standing there like a shallow figure in the dark. Eyes half-lidded, he rocked back and forth like he was on a boat under a storm. There was hatred there, when he pointed his index finger at Drake, looking ready to murder him. "You did it the first time too." "What are you talkin' about?" Drake replied, becoming a tiny bit uncertain now.

Diana said nothing. "Did what?" "You took Teddy." Caine's head fell to his side in an odd angle, upper lip twitching slightly, like an aggressive wolf readying itself for attack. Almost like a zombie, he stepped forward, looking wicked. "Listen kiddo, I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, I don't go around collecting fucking toy bears and especially not anything belonging to you, get it? I'm no four-year-old, I'm-"

"Hey Diana? I know a lullaby."

The temperature chilled down several degrees.

_"The teeny-tiny sharkie"_

And then he extended his hands, all while singing, and Drake was floating in mid-air. He started throwing the stunned shark up, racing him towards the ground before stopping him in the exact same second where Drake would've been smashed into the floor.

Caine sang, voice creepy and hoarse. His fingers moved extremely fast, all brain-power focused on harming Drake as much as he could. It made him glad when Drake shouted out in pain, to only be smashed into another wall in the next second, thrown around in the room like nothing but a plastic ball. "Where's Teddy?"

"I-I d-d-dun 'ave it…" A thin line of blood ran from Drake's forehead.

Caine's darkened. "Lies," he said.

_"Swam up the water spout"_

He ignored Diana completely as she tried to hold him back, merely sending her a few steps backwards. Not enough to harm, but enough to show that he would hold her down if he had to. Nothing is sweeter than revenge, especially for boys that have no idea what a huge difference life and death can make.

Diana understood that stopping him by force wouldn't help, and frantically thought of opinions to keep her from killing Drake. They needed him, although he was a junior version of Patrick Bateman. Without him, chaos would happen when the Coates kids had no one to lead them anymore, and without Caine, it would mean civil war. The teddy bear! She had to find it, now…

There! Underneath the sofa, still bloodied and beaten, laid his motherfucking toy bear!

But oh too late.

"_Down came god"_

Drake was thrown through the window.

His hands reached out in the moment his back interacted with glass, the sound of one shard becoming thousands shrieking in the watchers ears. Caine merely stood, transfixed, smiling, still singing with his gruesome hoarse voice.

Drake had no time for shouting, his mouth opening, but he shut it when he felt some of the shards force themselves into his back, through his t-shirt. It all happened in slow-motion, and Diana could see the shock, the sudden awareness and then the mind-blowing torment.

_"And washed the sharkie out"_

Blood and teardrops and glass shards were all around him, shining brightly because of the grinning half-moon. He fell and fell and fell into a supermassive void hole, it seemed, never-ending and all-consuming. Then time caught up with him and he landed hard on pavement ground.

It resulted in a "Gahh!" sound, and his eyes rolled back in his head, Drake now consumed by infinite darkness. Blood streamed out underneath him, creating a pool of crimson.

_"Out came the sun"_

Diana rushed for it, the teddy bear falling to the ground, and she ran towards where Drake lay. She ran through blackness, thinking little of morals and her own appearance when her hair flew in the wind and created a mess, hands covered in blood and lips pressed tightly together.

The night air pressed towards her like a wall of cold, before she hurried over the pavement, bare feet drumming against the pavement.

_"And dried up all the blood"_

Caine held up the teddy bear, still muttering the lyrics of his own twisted song, which he'd made all by himself (Diana should've been proud of him!), tapping his foot to the beat.

He hugged the bloodied Teddy, smiling, and went towards the window again. He leaned over to get better look at the body on the ground, caring little that the glass cut his fingers when he touched it. Ignorant for pain, he just stood there, studying his artwork.

_"And the teeny-tiny sharkie"_

He lay on a bed of blood and shards, one of the larger pieces sticking out from a place near his right shoulder. His head was on the side, but you could see that his sand-blonde hair was slowly being coloured, the red appearing black in the night.

What a beautiful view. Caine yawned, feeling a bit tired, and went back to bed with the knowledge that he would sleep better than ever tonight. Because revenge had never tasted sweeter.

Before he could go to sleep though, he finished the song, still smiling.

_"was killed by a god"_

**_TBC_...**

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._  
><em>

**A/N: **Creepy Caine is creepy o.o Anway, I will continue to use meters and centimetres because of the Oatmeal's comic about it xD .. First paragraph was entirely mine, except the whole part about scraping someone's brains out. Tarantino movies ftw, especially _Pulp Fiction_ 8D ..Has anyone out there read _The Professional Serial Killer and Career of Ted Bundy_? Just throwing it out there, 'cos if you wanna learn how to write Drake properly, study that book damn well. The lullaby was "Itsy-bitsy Spider" with sucky self-made lyrics. Oh well.

I want to thank **DreamCatcher96** for beta'ing at super speed (1-2 days) and for doing such a great job~! ccc: This piece wouldn't flow as well without her. Also, thanks to my readers and reviewers for being with me till now, it means a lot. Keep on reading/reviewing, please! Someone requested Caina. And I gave it to them - well, narcissist!CainexDiana, but same shit. See what kind of power reviewers have?


	6. Shadowed Saturday

**Disclaimer: **Check the first chapter, please.

**A/N:** Memento mori = Latin and means "remember that you are mortal".

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**Mad Friends**

**Day VI :: Shadowed Saturday**

**+Memento** **Mori+**

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_"Given the change I would happily dance on the grave of the one  
>who shows no remorse<em>

_So I feel little like, a child who's lost, a little like,_  
><em>(everything's changed) a lot, I didn't like all of the pain,<em>  
><em>I'm confused, a lot of it, is hard to take, and cause of it,<em>  
><em>everything's changed I thought I'd make it through the pain<em>  
><em>everything's changed"<em>

"Nothing Can Be Explained"; Bleach™ OST

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_"Class, quiet down please, I know you're not so fond of this subject but if you'd just pay a little attention I'm sure it would be fun!" the teacher started, with excitement. _

_She smiled sadly down at the pathetic bunch she'd have in English that month after the last one had lost his temper and apparently assaulted a student. It was tiring, working at a school for the young and unstable, and the wrinkles on her face voted for it. At least these weren't that bad though, most only eleven or twelve. "We're at page eleven, and we're going to explain some difficult words. M-o-n-s-t-e-r. Please define a monster. That means to explain what a monster is. Yes, Mr. White?" _

_A little kid with black hair and huge eyes answered, giggling, "Um, like the sort who hides under beds, and is bad, and will eat you when you come out? Swallow you whole and then crap you out again-"_

_"Yes, very well Mr. White, that's quite enough. I'm guessing you've played a little too many video-games lately, yes? Regardless… Miss. Ladris, do you have a perhaps… better definition?" _

_"Him."_

_Not ever had she been this certain._

_Her small finger pointed towards him, eyes on the teacher, but knowing that the boy had stopped doing whatever he was doing and staring at her. She could feel it, as if someone was pouring melting silver into her neck._

_The teacher seemed stunned for a moment, before throwing it away as casual child talk. "That's not nice, Miss. Ladris, you can't just go around calling fellow students for monsters."_

_Diana kept quiet, but another girl, a much more naïve girl, spoke, "You don't understand. He's a monster. I've seen it, too."_

_"Seen what?" an old woman such as her was not used to the rule 'punishing a student by publically humiliation is not allowed', even if she wasn't completely unaware. In fact, there was curiosity there, hidden behind those few words. Therefore she allowed the girl to speak, even if the one in question sat just a few seats behind everybody else, listening to every goddamn word. _

_"The ducks. Out with the pond." The girl swallowed and cast a scared look over at Diana, who ignored her pretence. She kept her eyes on the window, not wanting to get involved, even if she was the one that had started it in the first place. "I saw him…" she paled and trailed off, unable to tell what horrors she'd witnessed. "And out with the west garden, near the statues, he… y'know there's always a lot of butterflies there, right? Well he tore their w-wings off."_

_The sand-blonde boy in the corner said nothing, no expression on his face whatsoever. Except perhaps a sneer, or a smile, since he was leaning on his elbows and hiding his half mouth, leaving most curious of what he was feeling. _

_"Is this true, Mr. Merwin?"_

_Drake's pencil broke, splitting in half, falling on the floor. The sound made many turn, but Drake said nothing, just picked it up again and studied the broken half._

_After understanding that he would not respond, the old teacher sighed and went on with the lesson. The definition of monster was taken right out of the dictionary and the class passed as just another boring one in the children's mind. When it was finished, Diana stopped right with his desk, not looking at him, but still just standing there, waiting._

_"I hate you," he said matter-of-factly._

_Diana said nothing for a couple of minutes, and indulging in his staring contest. Then, with the same lack of emotion that he had, she replied, "I hate you too, you _monster_."_

_"Good," was all he said. _

_Because she was one too._

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_'Define a monster,'_ Diana thought to herself. Anything to keep her thoughts of the horrible situation and at the same time doing what was needed. _'Just like that lesson in seventh grade.'_

She tried to drag the much heavier body across Coates parking lot and into the building, the few who passed just staring at her or looking the other direction to avoid helping. This was something she had to do herself - no one else dared to come near the psychopath, even if he was currently in a very weak state.

_'A monster is something bad. It doesn't care about other people's feelings. It only exists to torment other living creatures, often to slaughter everyone it appears.'_

There was a long trail of red after him, showing potential hitmen (it could happen) where she'd take the infamous boy, but she had no time to wipe it away. He gave some sort of "mnghhn" sound when she dragged him over to the next room, where the health nurse had fixed up bullies' victims after a night of harassment and fighting.

_'A monster doesn't feel the slightest hint of regret or guilt when tearing a person apart - mentally or physically - and will probably enjoy it a lot too.'_

Drake continued to give small, pained whimpers, but was far too quiet for her liking. Any normal person would've been screaming in agony when they weren't fully unconscious, and Drake's eyelids twitched as if he was trying hard to stay asleep. He was lucky though, somehow having managed to not break anything.

Though there was blood, glass shards and despair, so he really wasn't that lucky anyhow.

_'It is often scary with a horrifying form, reaching out to grab and scare you shitless, always having a burning desire to bring torment upon the human race.' _

Deep inside, it scared her to see the mighty Merwin in such a ridiculous state - dragged across Coates by his foe after a foot, wincing, whimpering and trembling like a man on his deathbed.

"Don't you dare die on me Merwin," she whispered, "Don't you **dare**."

_'But… Sometimes there are monsters who disguise themselves. Take upon human forms, born like a child, mind twisted with unreleased evil. We give them fancy names like mentally ill people or psychopaths, but deep inside, we all know monster is a much more fitting term.'_

Then realizing dawned upon her; what her words meant and what a big surprise it was that she'd muttered them to _him_. It wasn't that he could hear her that was the worst part, oh no, because she cared for him. There and then, heat streamed to her face and she stopped dead in her tracks.

_'Still we insist that we can fix the monsters. In reality we force thousands of happy pills down their throats and lock them away, the madness still there but not in sight. And when something is not in sight, people do the tremendous mistake of believing it is gone forever.'_

Her mood worsened and she suddenly remembered all the times he'd tormented her mentally like a constant plague that had no cure but death. This made her so angry she let go of him, feeling nothing in particular when a 'thud' echoed throughout the room.

Why did she bother? Why, why, why?

Drake was dead to her. There were no feelings between them but pure hate and it had been that way since their births, it seemed - even if helping him gave her certain merits.

_'But it isn't; because if the people are extra unlucky, fate working against us, the monster will break lose and unleash the madness that can finally roam freely. '_

Then she stopped.

The invisible chains that held the three cards together tightened, pulling at her wrists, and when she turned she swore she saw a silvery twinkle fading. She tried to resist but it was useless, because soon her steps had lead her back to her fallen…

What was Drake to her?

A comrade? An ally? A… _friend_?

The latter was mad. Of course, both she and he were too, so it bothered her less than it should have. Still, it didn't matter in the long run, because he was dying despite whatever relationship he had with her, and this caused her to drag him into the night nurse's tiny room.

_'Too bad we're all monsters,' _Diana thought with gritted teeth. She was a bitch, a cunning queen and a monster, but she was no murderer. She could drag the strings that would lead to mindless puppets massacring thousands, but she couldn't grab a dagger and do the work herself.

She laid him on the hospital bed, noticing how he'd lay completely still now. Diana wiped away sweat off her forehead, making sure the door was locked before starting inspecting the half-corpse. Drake had made no more signs of moving, having passed out from the pain.

Thanking whatever gods that were out there that he wasn't thrashing and jerking around, stopping her from helping, Diana got a few instruments from a nearby desk. Fingers moving swiftly, she cut his shirt open with a scissor, mind fully concentrated at the task at hand.

She studied the wounds before getting a small metal pincette, dragging the bigger shards out as fast as she could. She had to be more careful with the smaller ones, not having as good grip as with the bigger.

It was slow work and each time a shard collided with the bucket of water, making the liquid redden, she felt herself grow more and more exhausted. It was night and she was supposed to be sleeping, but here she sat, bound by some stupid feeling of justice and helping Drake _motherfucking_ Merwin.

When moving towards the shoulder, she stopped. "What the-" her voice died out, shock evident on her features. She turned to Drake, glaring daggers at him, even if he couldn't see it. "You never removed the bullet, did cha?"

Receiving no answer whatsoever (obviously) Diana started going through his pants. She knew he always had some weapons on him, and wasn't surprised to find a tiny pocketknife.

She laid the knife and another pincette in a bit of sterilizing water, and then started inspecting his legs. She didn't feel embarrassed over doing so, because monsters like her weren't attracted to monsters like him. This was needed. If she failed this task, he'd become weak, and that was worse than death in the FAYZ.

Not too many small glass shards had slipped into his skin near the feet, and she exhaled out her worries. The thought of seeing Drake naked horrified her more than anything else on the planet - simply because it was Drake, not because it was a boy. Seeing him so vulnerable - even more vulnerable than now - would increase her chances of seeing his as more _human_, and she better have learned by now that he was no such thing, not in her opinion anyway.

Washing her hands in sterilized water, she picked up the knife and walked towards his shoulder. She was about to begin without drugging him, but closed her eyes and sighed. It wasn't because she was concerned, but if he woke it would be a giant problem.

She soon found a small needle with sedation inside, big red letters reading "ONLY USE IN CRITICAL MOMENTS", squirting out two shots of transparent liquid before nearing Drake. She inserted it about six centimetres from where the swelled-up hole was. The skin around was purple and ugly, yellow gore coming out from the black hole that the skin so dumbly tried to close.

Then he awoke.

(_'Screaming, who is screaming?'_)

It was like a pig's screaming - hysterical and loud, him smashing his fists against the table but making no move to get off. Diana had to step backwards, the needle still inside his shoulder, forcing itself deeper when he fought so wildly.

Truly horrific, how he looked. Eyes were like silver torches, blazing off with such a tremendous light, giving away all his emotions, thoughts and feelings. It wasn't too hard to guess though, because all he did were… were…

Feeling nothing but pain.

Seeing nothing but white.

Smelling nothing but rot.

Tasting nothing but blood.

Hearing nothing but screaming.

(_'Screaming, am I screaming?'_)

And his sixth sense - if there was such a thing - detected madness, all around him.

If there was such a thing as seventh sense - seven sins, seven virtues, seven days - then he dreamt about nothing but death. Death would free him from this vessel where the walls tightened all around him, and he clawed at his skin to make it stop, but strangely enough it made nothing but more gruesome torment.

Then she spotted belts - belts? - that hang together with the green hospital table, on the sides, and against she became aware how much Coates academy resembled an asylum for the mentally unstable. In a way, nothing had changed since day one.

In another way… a lot of things had changed.

In one week. One simple week.

It had been so much, oh so much for them to bear, for them to take,

They wanted to die.

But the chains tightened, forcing them to go further, their feet and arms chained together in a line with Caine first, Diana second and Drake third. Around them everything fell apart, obeying the knight of Destruction. Everything burned, leaving nothing but ashes for the trio to wander foot-deep in, almost swimming through it.

'The Coates Trio' would be a wrong term, although they are living examples of madness and Coates really harbours a lot of crazies. Although being good examples, there are names much more fitting than such. They are all believed to be perfect, flawless, silvery.

**The Silver Trio**.

Because they are far from golden, far from perfect in reality, but since they're believed to be it, the title still stands.

And when one fall, the others fall with him.

Drake continued on screaming.

(The horse had been stupid, trying to take the king's place. Although the king is the weakest piece on the board, it's still the king. And when the horse had been too foolhardy, the king had answered with killing him a little. Just a little bit though.)

In a strange way, she could not stop thinking about the screaming of a horse when it is slaughtered alive.

She strapped him to the table, using a strength she had no idea from where came from, while he kicked and fought like a wild animal to escape her clutches. His mindless wiggling gave no meaning though, because he made no attempt to roll off the table, just fought on. She realized he was in the same state as Caine when he had a nightmare. Quietly asking him to calm down, her gentle tone forced and tired, Diana managed to strap him to the table from all sides, several belts over his body when he stopped fighting so hard.

If it was from exhaustion or her gentle words she would never know.

He stirred a little, but soon became still.

Her features were stripped of all feeling except concentration when she started cutting him. Blood streamed out along with the yellow goo, and she used a small rag to get it away. The bullet wasn't too deep inside and she managed to get it out with the use of the pincette. She threw it in the bucket full of glass shards, staring at it as if transfixed by her own doings, then noticing Drake's shoulder bleeding heavily and started fixing it with rags and bandages.

She felt emptied for all her strength, but continued to work.

Seconds, minutes and hours passed.

That was what it felt like anyway, but she had no way of telling the time so she just worked on, ignoring the increasing need for sleep and her hunger waking up.

Drake awoke, but she didn't notice.

Her slender fingers were gentle enough, working over his chest smoothly and getting the pain over with as fast as she could manage. It would feel strange, perhaps even uncomfortable, for a teenage boy around his age when a girl approached him, half-naked and all. Drake felt nothing, nothing but something reminded him that he should've felt something, if he'd not been a monster.

When she was removing small shards from inside his skin near the arm, she looked up and almost jumped when she saw him staring at her. Regaining her façade, Diana raised an eyebrow.

"Back from the dead?"

He didn't answer, merely continued to stare with his big, silver eyes.

"What?" she exclaimed with fake shock, releasing him from the binds that held him still, "Don't I get a kiss, for my efforts?"

Diana was tired, oh so tired. Blackness was edging in the corners of her vision and Drake was turning into a blurred form, thus she had no time to react or turn away when he learned forward. He waited for a reaction, but received none.

That was when he decided to speak, voice raspy and hollow, almost like it belonged to an ancient ghost that had been dead for decades, but still very much there.

"There are certain things someone like me does not do, Ladris. I will not thank you. I still despise you as much as I did before the… accident, and nothing can change such a strong hatred. A thank you is not mine to give, neither yours to receive. I bathe in sin, Ladris, and am a killer and a thief, truly heartless, so even when doing good I'll never manage to take enjoyment over bringing pleasure to others. I can steal, harm and kill, but I can't steal sanity, and I can't steal a time machine to magically go back in time and prevent you from helping me and thus also preventing my dept to you. So…"

Suddenly there was too little space between them, and he felt it, too.

"I'm stealing you."

_'…If not only for a moment.'_

Cold dry lips pressed together so hard it hurt, no lust nor love of any kind, just _need_.

She tasted like angels ought to taste, like ashes and strawberries and hidden innocence.

He tasted like demons ought to taste, like blood and saltwater and sheer heartlessness.

The kiss he stole was made of glass.

It reminded them both of what would have been if such things were possible, reminded them of being two teenagers in a cliché love affair, thinking about silly things that did not matter, till… Brought back to reality, she opened her eyes to gaze mindlessly into the silver-eyed lunatic's and recalled that there was no such alternative for the two of them.

He'd wanted to try.

Would their romance be cleaner and easier than the thing she had going on with Caine? Fate is a mysterious thing, and perhaps in another alternative universe, they were happy together.

Deep inside, it screamed in Drake. Screamed at him for giving in, for _trying_, making his previous words all lies. Deep inside, he also wanted to be human. Born without social tendencies, it was an aching place in his heart, where it lacked. And he knew it, that what was made it all so odd. His mind told him one thing, his cold heart another.

(Because he had a heart, oh yes, because there was one beating in his chest despite his lack of goodwill towards others. Almost like a little songbird, caged in his chest, where it couldn't fly away.)

Torn between all these instincts and personal opinion (_'I DON'T WANT TO BE HUMAN!'_), his mind became even more deranged, making his personality twisted with sudden mood changes and unpredictable moves. Is it really that strange that men like him were declared insane?

The kiss was made up of what could have been, but what would never ever be.

It lasted seven sinful seconds.

And it was truly a small escape where they could _pretend_ everything was alright, _pretend_ that they were normal, _pretend_ that they weren't trapped in a radioactive semicircle cage.

"An oath is sealed. I will not kill you just yet, Diana."

Her name danced on his tongue, feeling and sounding foreign, like a word for or a reference to something terrible but great in another language. Never in his life had he muttered her name.

Not like this.

He extended his hand.

Not like this.

And his grip was firm when she took it. He stood up, looking out, eyes puffy and body stiff. Still he refused to cry. Still she refused to speak. Still they stayed, close to each other, him looking like a bloodied beaten pulp and she as a doctor who hadn't slept in days.

And then…

"But when Caine wakes up… It'll be over. I can't refrain from hating you, Diana, and if you cross me in the future I might impale your head on a pole." He told her this without blinking. "If anyone hears about this though, death might come sooner than you think."

She was the girl he hated most in the entire world.

She was also the girl he loved the most.

Drake shrugged.

It made perfect sense in his mind.

"I hate you," she told him. _'But I'll keep your secret. I'm rather good at keeping them, especially yours. Always was, always am.'_

"Good," was all he said.

And strangely enough it was a very human thing, especially for the two of them.

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_"Even the insane can show their thanks now and then." _

-Ladd Russo, Baccano!

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**A/N:** Before the stark raving mad Caina-fans threaten remove the head from my shoulders ("OFF WITH HER HEAD!" - see what I did there?) let little old me explain properly. There are no romance between Diana and Drake. Whatsoever. Like stated, "The kiss was made up of what could have been, but what would never ever be". A kiss is more powerful than a hug or a mere handshake, thus meaning that their oath will have more dept in it, or some twisted logic that only makes sense in my mind.

I repeatedly listened to "Misty Mountains" (_The Hobbit_ soundtrack) while writing this chapter. Nerdgasm. Can't wait until the movie comes out.


	7. Sunrise Sunday

**Disclaimer: **Disclaimed.

**A/N:** And so it all has come to an end ~

Btw, didn't know I was unintentionally using the same quotes as _Arkham Asylum: a serious house on serious earth_ o.O I've read that graphic novel way too much, now I'm copying it without noticing! This chapter has Friedrich Nietzsche references, a Gary Jules song and general melancholy.

Anyways, thanks to those who read this crap and to those who dropped by to leave a comment~ And as always, thousands of hugs to a wonderful beta-reader who continues to amaze me with her supreme speed and good beta work! **DreamCather96**, yer da' best.

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**Mad Friends**

**Day VII :: Sunrise Sunday**

**+Mad World+**

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The past and the present are connected. Of course. It's only logical.

Sometimes they're a little too connected, but humans are still too arrogant and ignorant to believe in fate. Well, perhaps it isn't Destiny, but who can tell for sure? There's limbo lullabies all around them, especially these humans in particular, all of them in a Hell without flames…

(Oh but the town _will_ burn, a radioactive creature somewhere laughs - perhaps it is the mastermind behind all this?)

They're all lost though, forgotten in a world without adults. Though it's not the absence of adults that is killing them, it's them. The kids. The adorable and smart little kids that the parents long to put to bed and kissed goodnight. Small evil creatures that have a potential to become destructive killing machines, though most choose the path of a rat and eat their comrades in order to stay on top of the food chain - some more literally than others. Because when people become desperate, they'll eat each other. The adults represent law and order, forcing the belief of guilty consciences into the rats' heads, just like their guardians did on them oh so long ago.

Without law and order, a society falls apart, little by little, if not immediately.

What if the doors to the asylums had been opened, allowing lunatics to roam freely in the streets?

No laws against tormenting women?

No laws against enslaving men?

No laws against burning infants to ashes, just like mere puppets? Puppets on strings, and when children become tired with a toy, they'll throw it away, never to play with it again? Would one find corpses of little brothers rotting in a dark corner of their room?

What would the parents say? Kiss their child's forehead and tell them that it was okay - they'd buy - _produce _- a new one for them to play with, for they have become so materialistic that are toys nothing more worth than the lives of lesser people?

This would maybe happen in the FAYZ if there weren't any teenagers - half-adults, half law-infesters, but also half children - still having an idea of a society with laws? The streets of Perdido Beach filled with rape and murders and the hallways of Coates filled with moulding thrash?

The monsters have already showed their true forms, most of them anyway. The root of all evil is desire, twisting and turning a young heart.

The true monsters are the children. Every single one of them. Some just hide it better than others.

In the FAYZ the teenagers - the half-breed monsters - are dying. Even real monsters gaze with horror of what have yet to come, when all the half-adults are dead and _children_ raise _children_. There will be no laws anymore.

God help us all.

.

.

_All around me are familiar faces  
>Worn out places, worn out faces<em>

Certain things repeat themselves.

"Déjà vu," Diana muttered as she strolled through the Coates hallways, imagining it to be flooded with blood. It took her mind off the horrifying glances all the crazies around there sent after her. First after she'd realized that she was no more a monster than everybody else (still it stung) she saw the true faces of the passing ones.

_Bright and early for the daily races  
>Going nowhere, going nowhere<em>

The tire, the fear, and the absolute emptiness that everybody wore without pride, was something she never before had noticed. They blended in with the gloomy surroundings, making this area of the FAYZ even darker than before. Some lurked around in a constant search for food (more and more and more and more), others just wandering around aimlessly, like ghosts no one remembered or cared for anymore.

Waiting. Waiting for what? The dawn of man? The FAYZ walls going down? Or was it a revolution they all waited for? One must know that a revolution starts with a proper leader, and there was no one fit for the title around these parts. Ah! They were waiting for the return of the king, waiting for him to lead them into the upcoming war when he was finished fighting his personal one.

_Their tears are filling up their glasses  
>No expression, no expression<em>

Alight flickered above her.

And again Diana found herself seeing a resemblance between Coates and a madhouse, and this time, she knew that her assumption had been true. It had no resemblances. It didn't remind her of one. Coates Academy _was_ a madhouse.

_Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow  
>No tomorrow, no tomorrow<em>

The girl whose toy Drake had burned to ashes passed Diana without a word. The childish hope that had shone in her eyes before the shocking events only held a tiny sparkle, and Diana thought it would vanish soon enough. This wasn't a world for hope. It was survival of the fittest, and the better she realized that, the sooner.

There was shadow underneath her eyes though, showing that darkness had already consumed the young creature. Now she wandered as aimlessly as the many ghosts around there. _  
><em>

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad  
>The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had<em>

Still, Diana found herself envious on the small girl. She'd have something to cling to, something little yes, but something she could hug at night when she felt alone. Diana had nothing, no one. Neither did Drake or Caine.

Monsters aren't supposed feel such, and Diana began wondering if she was a half-breed, because she could feel something missing. Yet it brought her slight satisfaction, because there wasn't anyone to bring her down. She didn't need anyone, because she was always in her own company.

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

Drake followed her, she realized. His footsteps were all behind her. He didn't have anyone either, but she didn't know why he was following her, nor did she care.

She headed towards a special someone's bedroom. Those who passed her knew who, hell, everybody knew how after this week. He was still in the janitor's room though, the little royal outcast. Once she'd described him as majestic. What a joke. A royal joke.

_When people run in circles its a very, very_

And then Diana started laughing, a terrible little laugh that echoed around in the building.

_Mad world, mad world_

Drake didn't even flinch, too exhausted and too used to mad people (including himself) to even raise an eyebrow. She finished and walked on soon enough, and he followed wordlessly. Felt like he owed her something. And Drake wasn't the one to follow his head.

When entering the room - standing several meters apart from each other though - there was only one question on their mind. Where was Caine?

_Children waiting for the day they feel good  
>Happy birthday, happy birthday<em>

Drake followed her without a word, feeling a tiny bit of terror grow in his chest. Caine hadn't had another accident, had he? If so, who knew who could be next? Even Drake had no desire to become like Chunk even if he hadn't been the one scraping the motherfucker's brains out (those two guys would have nightmares for the rest of their pitiful lives).

Half-expecting to find a torn-up corpse in the bathroom, Diana was shocked when she saw the room as clean as the way she'd left it.

But where was Caine?

She looked around, then felt her heart's fanatic beating slow down, spotting him.

There, underneath a sink, he sat, all curled up.

_And I feel the way that every child should  
>Sit and listen, sit and listen<em>

"Diana… D-Drake…" he stammered, smiling madly.

The day Diana saw Caine hiding on a bathroom underneath a sink was a day she never believed would come. But here he was, still smiling, and still quite insane, underneath a damned sink.

"How nice of you to join me here."

Drake found no amusement in watching the shell of a boy even if he'd poked fun at him in any given situation before. But that was in the past, and although the past and present are connected, they are two very separate things. Instead he stood and watched on with almost lifeless eyes, feeling that he owed his two allies something more than just walking away. He couldn't move his feet or gaze away from them, making him just stand there.

_Went to school and I was very nervous  
>No one knew me, no one knew me<em>

"Caine," Diana said, tired, oh so tired, "Come out from under there."

"Don't wanna," came the resolute reply.

"Why not?" Drake asked, suddenly interested.

There was a pause, where one could almost feel Caine thinking hard whether that he would share it or not. "There are monsters out there. And not just the invisible ones."

_Hello teacher tell me, what's my lesson?  
>Look right through me, look right through me<em>

Drake and Diana froze.

Caine wrapped his arms tighter around himself. "You've seen them too, haven't you? He speaks about them all the time, and _He_ says you have met them… and he also says you've met Him, not in person but still _seen_ Him, but I don't believe that."

"I'm… naked in the dark. There's really nothing… nothing protecting me from _Him_ anymore. Lurking in the underground depths, w-waiting for the correct moment to strike… He's coming closer… I can feel what He feels and He's… He's…" Then, Caine's eyes became emotionless and glassy, almost like a doll's.

"**Hungry in the dark**."

Drake stepped backwards.

Although he'd whispered those four horrible words, they all heard it as if it was screaming in their ears, Drake especially. He had issues standing, and had to bend over to not curl up on the floor, breaking just like Caine had.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad  
>The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had<em>

But Caine had gone back into another state, shaking his head for a bit so that colour returned to his cheeks, the naïve and innocent Caine taking over. He smiled a trembling smile, not seemingly noticing Drake's miserable form, just turned towards Diana.

"What was I saying? Oh yeah… Will you come join me in the asylum, or rather home for _our_ kind, my precious friends? There is plenty of room for more." Giggling hysterically, Caine wrapping his arms tighter around himself like the straightjacket he needed. "Yes, that is correct. Come join me in the madhouse. Please?"

"Oh Caine," Diana sighed, "We're already in one."

Caine smiled, and pointed towards his own forehead. "Not up here. Not yet anyway."

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

Diana was the first one to give up everything, sitting down with him, beside him underneath a freaking sink. Drake followed soon after, saying nothing, but still joining in underneath the sink. Caine sat in the middle, smile transforming into a slightly dazed one, like he was drugged with something. Diana leaned her head on his shoulder, and Drake's shoulder touched Caine's.

Out of nowhere and no emotion in particular, Caine kissed both their cheeks, the horse and the queen too exhausted (of life) to reject the king.

Caine brought his thumb up to his mouth and started chewing on it, biting so hard crimson started covering it. He studied it like it was a foreign animal, staring curiously at it before continuing to bite. Then, with the finger in his mouth, he whispered, "We're not the mad people, are we?"

_When people run in circles its a very, very_

"No," Drake answered quietly, a helpless look sinking into his expression. "We're not the bad guys. Not the crazies either. It's not us it's… it's the world."

_Mad world,  
>Mad world,<br>Enlarging your world_

Like a nightmare on earth. It wasn't just Caine who struggled with reality, because in a way, the dreams he'd had was a reality, just in a different way. But fancy dresses, beautiful forests and big talk didn't change their situation the slightest.

"We're not the monsters. We're not the mad ones." Diana said. "The world is."

_Mad world_.

.

.

_"And is it not a mother's gentle hand that withdraws your curtains,_

_and a mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise?_

_To rise and forget, in the bright sunlight,_

_the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark"_

-Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Lewis Carroll)

.

.

There are no mothers that can wake them up from this nightmare.

Though not for the Mad King, the Mad Queen and the Ace of Spades.

They are doomed to be alone forever, hand in hand, ironic and mad, but still very, very alone - together.

The silver trio (because they are far from golden).

The king, the queen, and the horse.

The mad ones.

_The mad friends._

.

.

_**fin.**_

.

.

**A/N:** To be continued… in HUNGER!


End file.
